Decretum
by InfertileCub
Summary: Summary:  Harry, fed up with how the world is treating him, decides to reshape it himself.  Goes into detail about the Dark Arts, questionable Harry.  Good intending Weasley, Granger, and Dumbledore, but bashed nonetheless.
1. Have a Dream

**Have a Dream**

Okay, the first bit of this story will be rushed, because, lets face it, it's been done. Harry escapes Privet Drive and the Order, goes to Diagon Alley, stocks up on stuff for training in the war, blah, blah, blah. I'll admit that many aspects of my story have been taken from other authors that I have read over the years, but with so many I simply can't credit them all. If you notice something that is eerily similar to your work, congratulations I probably thought it was exceptionally good… I'm pretty picky about what I like to read.

Points to be aware of: There will be Horcruxes, probably not as many as cannon but we'll see. Harry will most certainly be one; there really is no other way to explain his connection with Voldemort. The Hallows don't exist here. It always seemed to me that Rowling dropped the ball on that one in coming up with a way for Harry to beat Voldemort. In reference to his cloak, it's just that, simply an invisibility cloak that like all the others in my version of the imaginary world, last a really long time. Dumbledore truly cares for Harry, but places the safety of the Wizarding world before a single life. That said, he, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, are simply annoying to me, so they'll be bashed pretty thoroughly. Harry may not be evil per say, but he certainly does some things that are questionable, and may be construed as malevolent.

There may be slight time jumps, but I'll give a basic overview of what occurred during them. To explain certain things that happen during these skips in time, I may refer to flashbacks. I'm not very good at alternate viewpoints, so Voldemort's perspective would be a rare occurrence, but because I want the reader to see different aspects of the new Harry, Dumbledore may be the focus of a particular few scenes.

Currently I have a good idea of where I want to take this story and possible pairings, but things may change. Reviewer suggestions will be kept in mind at all times but may be summarily overruled. (I may not listen.) Extremely important…NO SLASH! Let's ignore the fact that Harry was obviously interested in Chang in fourth and fifth year, I guess you could pull the whole curious thing but not in my little world.

Harry's been through a lot in his life, so some of his internal musings may be slightly deranged, and oddly similar to my own. I hope you enjoy, and because this is my first fanfic, I welcome criticism in all forms, but if you continue to hate it, why keep reading and posting? I have a strange feeling that I'm going to turn into a review slut, so make me _your_ review slut. (Kinky, I know.)

I use italics for emphasize on certain words (obviously), the thoughts of certain characters, mainly Harry, and anything written. If a spell is in italics it is cast silently, otherwise I'll write it with quotes. The reader shouldn't have any trouble distinguishing the many uses of slant writing as I usually give some form of indication. Enjoy bitches!

**Monday, June 22, 1996**

Harry Potter was lying on lumpy mattress in the smallest bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive in Surrey. Guilt flooded his young mind. The pain of loosing his Godfather, his last true chance at a family, brought untold sadness. It had been two days since his return from Hogwarts, and the knowledge of the prophecy weighed heavily on his mind. Harry's _family, _if they could be called such a thing, had abided, so far, to the warning given to them at the train station. While, obviously not pleasant, they seemed to treat Harry with indifference, and undisguised distain. The looks Vernon Dursley gave young Harry Potter spoke of barely concealed contempt and hatred.

While lying on his twin sized mattress, Harry was thinking. _Sirius wouldn't have wanted this. He wouldn't have wanted me to be wallowing in self pity. Padfoot would want me enjoying life. _

Momentarily Harry's guilt gave way to anger, anger at Bellatrix, at Voldemort, at Wormtail, at Dumbledore, and at Snape. The young man felt that all these people played a role in being the cause for Sirius' death. The more Harry thought on his anger the more it changed until the desire for vengeance replaced it. A craving to make those who had wronged him suffer. Normally the teen would squash these darker desires in fear of becoming like his greatest enemy. Harry felt that he and Voldemort already shared enough in common, without mutual dark feelings. _It doesn't matter how similar we are, we both want completely different things. Voldemort wants to live forever as a tyrant ruling through fear and be deified, while I want… What do I want?_

It was this question that gave Harry Potter pause. _I want things to change. I want Voldemort gone and a world where there's peace. A world were prejudice and injustice no longer prevail, where every sentient magical being is equal and treated fairly, where blood is irrelevant and it is magic itself that is important._

After a moment of dreaming of such a world, the realist in Harry Potter snapped him out of his hopes for a brighter future. _If only a place could exist. _It took longer, but soon his thoughts began anew. _Why couldn't it? Change is constant and the way the world is going now, it's not changing for the better. Maybe I could change it. Maybe I could make it better. I could help make the world better. _

Again, his thoughts took on a depressing note. _There aren't many witches or wizards with any common sense to help me. They're all just sheep, blindly following Voldemort, Dumbledore, or the Ministry. _Suddenly an idea emerged. _Maybe I could gather my own sheep. Many of the magical creatures only follow Voldemort because of the injustice done to them by the Ministry, and the empty promises he makes, though Dumbledore's not helping. They could join me! With the promise of a better world, a better life, they could stand against Voldemort… and against those that would seek to destroy the new world._

Still lying down, Harry suddenly sat up and took on a look of concentration. _The Ministry will be a problem. The prejudices many of those in positions of power hold will never allow beings wizards deem inferior to be considered their equal. In a government so corrupt, is it even worth saving? _Harry sighed and continued to ponder. _It's been the actions of the Ministry that have lead to the current problem with Voldemort. They refused to listen, they refused to see reason, and they are the root cause of all of their own suffering. It is because of their actions that wizards, witches, magical beings, and Muggles are suffering. Voldemort is simply the product of their own bigotry and ineptitude. They must be stopped or another Dark Lord will rise up in a few years after Voldemort's fall._

Harry knew, then and there, that the course of action he was thinking of taking would be long. But somehow, he felt that it was right, that he could create a world where magic flourished, a new world order. While Harry was the creator and sole member of this group, he couldn't help but know, to be certain, that they would flourish, that the organization's ideals would see its numbers rise to greater numbers than Voldemort's Death Eaters, or Dumbledore's Order. _I could do it; I could help to build a better world._

With this new goal in mind, an eerie calm settled in. Harry's feelings of guilt gave way to determination. A focus he had never known permeated his mind. Harry knew what he had to do. He would start simple, he would build his organization and take down Voldemort, then reshape the Wizarding world.

Turning his mind back to the present, he thought of all those that had wronged him. _All those responsible will pay. _A moment's pause brought forth a question. _Why stop at them? All the Death Eaters cause suffering, cause people to feel loss, sorrow, and anguish. _Understanding suddenly hit him. _We are in a war, and in war people die. Dumbledore has pressed his ideals upon his Order to only capture, to stun, where the Death Eaters seek to put an enemy down once and keep them down. Voldemort will win if his troops continue to pick off the Order one by one, while the Death Eaters simply take a stunned nap. We need to do the same, we need to kill. _

That thought stopped Harry. _We? Am I going to kill? _The more he thought about it the more resolute he became. _Yes! I'm going to kill. Hell, I've done it before. I killed Quirrell when I was eleven! Death Eaters do horrific things and deserve ever ounce of pain their given. But could I kill those that stand in the way of my vision for a better world? _It took time but slowly Harry accepted that for his dream to become a reality some people would need to go. _Those people that don't want their children to grow up in a land of acceptance, of hope for a brighter future, don't deserve a place in this new world._

Slowly a plan began to form, a plan that would reshape the Wizarding world for the better, a world were there was peace, at any cost. Harry quickly removed a piece of parchment and quill from his trunk and set out to organize his thoughts so that his plan could be implemented. _Creating this new world will take time, but I need to focus on the obstacles that stand in the way of its creation, namely Voldemort. How am I supposed to beat him? _Dipping the quill in the ink, Harry's hand moved to voice his subconscious thoughts, and offer a solution.

_Operation Decretum,_ Harry began. _Latin for order, that should work_,he thought_. _Continuing, Harry wrote, _Step one, become powerful, individually and with supporters. Step two, make them pay. Step three; tear down what is obviously broken. Step four; rebuild a world of tolerance, of peace, and of justice. Step five, stop all that stands in the way. _With the key points outlined, he continued. _Ways of completing step one: visit Diagon Alley for supplies. Find a way around the underage restriction. Find a place to train. _Looking over his list, Harry nodded once and thought _I need to finish step one, then I can reassess and move on to step two._

The plan, once it was laid out, seemed simple enough; it was implementing each step that would be difficult. Disguising himself would be troublesome due to the fact that he couldn't use magic to do so, and secondly, even if he could, he had no idea how to. It was during this realization that Harry understood how subpar his understanding in magic was and aimed to rectify this point quickly. The only solution to creating a disguise he could come up with was by using Muggle means.

**Monday, June 29, 1996**

It took a week but Harry was finally able to figure out the pattern his Order guard was using. Tonks would be on the day shift every other day, with Hestia Jones doing the same on the other days. Dung and Moody took the night shift, trading off the same as the girls. Mad-Eye was the only real problem, Harry realized. At first he thought he could write a bunch of letters telling his friends he was okay, and have his relatives send them off periodically so that the Order would think that he was there all summer, _Or Dumbledore releases me from my prison, _Harry thought bitterly. Due to that damn magical eye of Moody's, Harry quickly had to except that the Order would find out of his departure sooner or later.

_And start wasting their time and precious members searching for me. That's right Dumbledore; place all your eggs in the Harry Potter cutting off the snake's head basket. Because at the end of the last war, once Voldemort was dead, the Death Eaters just came in quietly didn't they? _

In the past week after setting a goal for a better world and the creation of steps to get there, Harry had become even more bitter and angry towards Dumbledore. The man he once considered wise and powerful now seemed foolish and weak. Foolish not to see and stop the young boy who would later become the most feared Dark Lord the world had seen in centuries, foolish not to act on the injustice of others, while calling for the acceptance of other magical beings. The old man appeared weak to Harry now, not weak magically, for Harry knew his power was something to respect, but weak in his inaction, in his desire to see the good in people where it so obviously wasn't, and to give second chances to those who don't deserve them.

Harry was sure that the Order of the Phoenix would search Diagon Alley first, and while they would be wise to do so, he planned on being quick and throwing them off his trail. The best plan he could come up with was to inform the Dursleys that he was leaving the country but would be back in England by September.

At first the young wizard figured he wouldn't return to Hogwarts, but he soon felt that the magical school would provide many things needed for his master plan. The large number of supporters and followers he could gather from the student body would be beneficial, along with the Room of Requirement aiding in their meeting and training, not to mention a library said to have no equal in England. He understood that many people would take convincing, but if he could turn the children to his cause, they may be able to persuade their parents, and allow him to garner even more aid. _An ambitious and cunning plan, I guess the Sorting Hat was right after all._

Thinking of his relatives and his guard just beyond Privet Drive, Harry continued to think of the best way to go about manipulating both. So it was, that on Tuesday evening just before Moody's shift, during dinner that Harry resolved to inform the Dursleys of his impending departure. The sole reason for this was that Harry assumed that they would be questioned once it became apparent that he had left.

"Vernon?" Harry asked in a monotone voice.

"What boy, can't you see I'm trying to enjoy a meal in peace without your freakishness interrupting?" Vernon snarled.

"I would just like to inform you that currently there is a man outside your home who can see through walls with a magical eye, so please do not overreact to what I am about to say to you." This statement caused all three Dursleys to pale dramatically, and then Vernon went his patented shade of purple, obviously thinking about the invasion of privacy. "I plan on leaving in the morning, probably before you awake. I will not return to the country until early September, however you still will not see me then, if ever, again."

Seeing Vernon's growing delight and Petunia's surprise, Harry pressed on. "The people who threatened you at the train station will probably show up on Thursday night, so I would recommend you go out that evening, they will not return to bother you, as I will be leaving a letter in my room. Think of that meal as a celebration for never having to deal with _freakishness_ ever again." _Yeah, like the precious Order won't question them about my disappearance. What a laugh, I almost wish I could be here to see Vernon piss himself, the big child abusing man trembling because of a "stick."_

If Harry hadn't felt so disgusted at the very sight of the three people before him, he would have laughed at the look on Vernon's face, it appeared as if Christmas had come and hookers were lying under the tree. "Well that's good boy, finally we'll be free of you and your lot." Vernon replied merrily. Harry nodded in thanks and left the table to compose the letter he would leave for the Order. _This should throw them off a bit, and maybe Vernon can be given a reason to fear my kind. _

After his letter was written and folded neatly on his desk, Harry decided to set his alarm and turn in. He knew that with Moody outside, he couldn't pack his things, but luckily he had had the forethought to slowly gather a few items here and there throughout the week, so that the official packing would done in the morning, and take less than five minutes. Harry had sent Hedwig away three days ago, telling her to fly around and then go to the Burrow on Saturday at the earliest and stay there until he returned to Hogwarts. Crawling into bed and smiling slightly at what tomorrow and the future would bring, Harry Potter drifted off to sleep.

**Tuesday, June 30, 1996**

Just after six in the morning, to make sure that his guard's shift change had taken place, Harry gathered what few remaining items were not in his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak. It wasn't until then that he realized his trunk wouldn't be hidden from view. "Shit!" Harry murmured. _I can't waste time trying to figure this out! Well I have enough money to buy everything necessary again, so I'll just take the essentials. _

Acting quickly, Harry grabbed his old primary school backpack from the corner of the room and started stuffing what he deemed "valuable" into it. A few books, some potion ingredients, one of his school cloaks, and the Marauder's map all quickly filled the confined Muggle bag. He figured that when the Order inevitably came looking, they would take anything he left to Headquarters for safe keeping.

Putting the backpack on and throwing his invisibility cloak over himself, Harry quietly made his way downstairs to the kitchen and going through Petunia's purse. Taking what money he could find he quickly slid out the backdoor. _Years of child labor, abuse, and neglect, gives me the right to a few pounds, who knows, maybe someday I'll comeback and truly repay them in kind. _

Slipping out the back kitchen door, he crept slowly down the street away from Privet Drive. Making his way to the nearest shopping center, Harry moved unnoticed to an alley and removed his cloak. Entering the store, he quickly obtained makeup, hair dye that washed out, and a very ill fitting pair of cheap glasses, that were slightly off his necessary prescription, but they alone made him look different. After paying the clerk, and using the facilities to alter the color of his hair to light brown, Harry styled it in such a way that showed his scared forehead. After applying the makeup, and making sure that no one would recognize him, Harry moved down the street where he called a taxi to take him to Charing Cross Road. Feeling that the Order would somehow question Stan Shunpike, the Night Bus Driver, he opted for the Muggle mode of transportation to get to the Leaky Caldron. Harry was sure that he had a few days before it was discovered he was missing, and thus, long gone from Diagon Alley, but knew it was better to be cautious.

Walking a few blocks down Charing Cross, Harry discreetly ducked into an alley. Taking his school cloak from his bag, he proceeded to rip the Gryffindor patch off, while throwing the cloak over himself. Moving quickly as not to gain much notice from the Muggles, Harry checked to make sure the makeup covering his scar was still in place at a reflective store window before walking into the nearby Leaky Caldron. Tom the bartender merely glanced up, but otherwise didn't appear to pay him any mind. Harry was careful to keep his eyes down and narrowed, due to the fact that their green shine was so pronounced. _I really need to do something about these glasses, and a better disguise. _

After entering the alley beyond the brick wall and making a beeline straight to Gringotts, Harry quickly strode up to one of the goblin tellers. "Name?" the creature asked in a bored voice.

"Harry Potter. Would it be possible to speak to my account manager?" The goblin's head shot up from his paperwork and studied him closely. Finally the teller removed a small orb and dagger.

"Place a drop of blood upon the object sir and it will confirm your identity. If you are indeed Mr. Potter then I can retrieve your account manager." Taking the blade in hand and slicing his finger open slightly, Harry let a few drops of blood drip upon the softball sized object. The ball glowed blue briefly and apparently told the goblin all he needed to know as he hopped down from his seat and spoke, "If you will follow me please Mr. Potter." After falling in step just slightly behind the goblin, the pair made their way through a series of passages where the walls were adorned with paintings depicting viscous battles between goblins and various other magical beings, most predominantly wizards. Occasionally there were doors with rich engravings; it was at one of these doors that the goblin stopped.

Rapping twice quickly, a voice was heard from within, calling "Enter."

Opening the door and leading Harry inside, his goblin escort spoke, "Mr. Potter has requested a meeting." The older looking goblin peered over a stack of parchment and nodded once to the younger before he gestured to Harry to sit.

As the young wizard made his way to a plush black leather chair the teller made moved out, closing the door behind him with a soft click. When Harry was seated the elder creature spoke, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Potter, my name is Whipshank, what can I do for you today?"

Having everything already planned out, Harry began. "Several things actually sir, firstly I would like a summary of all the Potter holdings."

Before Harry could continue, the goblin began rummaging around through a stack of papers on his desk. Finally handing one to Harry and explaining; "Now this is total of all Potter assets, though undoubtedly this will change once you claim the inheritance of the Black estate." Harry's head shot up from the brief glance he had take at the parchment within his hands.

"Black estate?" he questioned. Whipshank appeared slightly confused by this question.

"Yes Mr. Potter your Godfather's will clearly states you are to inherit the vast majority of his estate. Did you not receive our notification by owl?" Slowly shaking his head caused the goblin to grimace slightly. "I will look into this matter Mr. Potter, however while I cannot tell you the exact details concerning the will of Sirius Black, nor are you able to take possession of the Black monetary assets until the official reading, I am able to say that you have acquired a rather large sum and many artifacts that currently reside within the Black family vault." Waving off his shock, Harry simply nodded and looked down on the parchment within his grasp and reading.

**Potter Family Holdings:**

Vault Number 26: 48,652,893 Gallons

Vault Number 92: Various artifacts (complete master list within)

Vault Number 687: 521,372 Gallons (Potter Heir trust fund)

_Well of course nobody decides to tell me I have multiple vaults. Why bother, its not like I grew up in world that regarded magic as myth. _Looking up Harry asked Whipshank, "What is the yearly interest earned on vault twenty six and do I have access to it?"

Once again the goblin ruffled through some papers and looking down replied, "Currently, because that particular vault was among the first hundred created, it is earning just over three percent annually, and at present you are unable to utilize the funds due to you not being of age, however because you are the last remaining heir, you are eligible for emancipation upon your fourteenth year."

_The list of half truths and bold faced lies keeps growing Dumbledore. At this rate you're quickly moving into the number three spot, just under Voldemort and Bellatrix._

After learning that he was only being emancipated by the goblins, thus giving him control over all vaults, but not able to perform magic without Ministry notice, Harry quickly signed and cursed Dumbledore under his breath for keeping his secrets. Harry once again voiced a question, "The artifacts within the Black vault, am I currently able to remove them?"

Whipshank grinned toothily. "At present Mr. Potter you are able to claim all of the Black vaults, however, until the official will reading, the monies must remain untouched. The Black artifacts hold no such restriction."

Thinking quietly for a few moments, Harry finally spoke again. "Is it necessary to be present at the will reading to claim the necessary inheritance?" Seeing the goblin respond in the negative, Harry continued, "In that case I would like all monies transferred to the highest interest earning vault after the will is read. Presently, transfer all artifacts into the highest security vault of the two currently being utilized. Now I would like to purchase a moderate mansion and have your expert Warders perform the task, the full package, including the Fidelius charm, with myself as secret keeper. Please for personal reasons keep the warders solely goblin and I am trusting your people to keep the home's owner's identity confidential until the Fidelius is cast. I am willing to pay extra if it is able to be done quickly."

While speaking Whipshank was writing furiously and occasionally nodding in agreement before he spoke. "Mr. Potter depending on the size of your new home the fastest we would be able to finish would be two days, would this be sufficient?" Grinning like a loon, Harry replied, "Perfect, now do you happen to have a few ideas as to homes available?"

"We do Mr. Potter; however, there is a problem with your request of your home being placed under the Fidelius charm." Seeing that the goblin had Harry's full attention, he continued. "Goblins are unable to cast the spells of wizards and we have no one on staff available to perform such a feat of magic. Warding utilizes the magical energies surrounding the world and can be molded to fit the needs of magical beings to a certain degree, which is why goblins, wizards, and certain other individuals can create them. Even if we did, it is my understanding that the owner of the home is unable to be the secret keeper. However, if you are willing to pay, there is a piece of goblin magic that may substitute your Fidelius."

_Of course I can't be my own secret keeper; otherwise my parents would have done it. _"What is the difference between the Fidelius and the goblin equivalent?" Harry asked.

"The Prikriven acts much like a stronger Notice-Me-Not charm. It creates an illusion over an area that blends into the surrounding environment, so as not to arouse suspicion. The casting is magically draining and requires multiple goblins, so the price is quite high," the goblin finished.

_This seems like the best option, and since I can't be the secret keeper, there's no use in learning the Fidelius just yet. _Seeing no better option, Harry spoke, "If your Warders are still able to meet the two day deadline I would gladly pay for this spell to be cast."

Grinning, the goblin continued to write before finally speaking, "It will be done Mr. Potter, now as to your desire to purchase a home." Whipshank trailed off while pulling out a small black box, twice the size of a matchbox, stated, "Please list several key features you would like and this device will be able to most closely associate the available properties."

Sitting back and thinking quickly, Harry began listing amenities, "potions lab, dueling space, training room, pool, multiple greenhouses, large library, and dungeons with plenty of outdoor space." With every new addition to his ideal manor, the small box continued to grow and expand. Finally ending up the size of a shoe box, with three blue lights appearing on the top, Whipshank addressed the human before him. The goblin instructed Harry to select one of the three. Doing so, the first light glowed brightly and shown what appeared to be a hologram of a large manor with rich gardens adoring the entryway. Moving through the other two and discovering that from left to right was indicative of size from smallest to largest, Harry selected the last model. From what he could see, the building didn't resemble a manor, but a small castle, complete with multiple towers, and a large gate, even the hologram looked ominous. _What the hell. Members of the new order can meet there and if I find someone I truly trust I can make them the secret keeper if I ever learn the Fidelius._

After filling out the necessary paperwork and obtaining an endless moneybag keyed solely to him, Harry was informed that due to obvious mailing complications he should revisit in two days to obtain his portkey to his new home after the Warders were done. Agreeing readily and desiring to visit his artifacts vault, Harry departed. _I'll speak to the goblins about joining my group later, one step at a time. _

After a rather thrilling cart ride and watching the huge double doors open Harry entered the Potter artifacts vault. Apparently the goblins work fast because the Black heirlooms and artifacts currently now resided within. The space was roughly half the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Books, weapons, jars filled with strange liquids, and various other objects adorned the walls. Piles throughout the vault held even more. Harry supposed there was some semblance of order, though his eyes failed to see any.

Moving to the podium near the entrance sat two large tomes. Looking through them, Harry realized they were the individual master lists of both the Black and Potter artifacts. "I wish I had just one list of all the books." Harry complained out loud. No sooner had the words left his mouth, than a large leather bound book appeared on the dais off in front of the podium. _No way. _

Picking up the book, and flipping through it, a single thought went through Harry's head. _I fucking love magic! _Moving back to the podium and speaking clearly, "I need a multi-compartment trunk that shrinks." Sure enough, a second later a large black trunk appeared with what seemed to be nine small locks on the front. On top of the trunk was a list of instructions for use. Memorizing them quickly, Harry keyed own magical signature into the trunk; after activating the internal feather weight charm, he removed it from the platform, and began opening each compartment. The first five were normal trunk size compartments that seemed to grow a few feet with every lower lock he reach. The next three appeared to be the same size as his room back at Privet Drive, and the ninth compartment was just what he was looking for, a revolving book case.

_Well apparently my new castle has a library and I want to take all these books with me, but how am I… house elves! Dobby would love to help, but I don't know if Dumbledore has control over him. Well that leaves one miserable little bastard, but the chances of him actually being useful are slim unless I'm…a…maybe that could work. _Deciding to fully accept his Slytherin side and pull a manipulative page from Dumbledore's book, he called out, "Kreacher!" Swallowing his anger toward the filthy beast, and not creating that many more problems for himself, Harry played to the elf's pureblood supremacy.

"Filthy Half-Blood Master calls Kreacher?" The insane house elf replied while bowing low, though Harry suspected he didn't want to even look at him. _Stay calm, stay calm. _

"Kreacher, you and I will be moving to a new home, one worthy of the most ancient and Noble House of Black." The little being looked up surprised with a touch of hope and much skepticism, but Harry continued, "Currently Grimmauld Place is infested with blood-traitors, mudbloods, and half-breeds, we'll never be able to remove the taint, so I have bought a new place to live. Now, we have much to discuss but first I want all the books removed from this vault and placed here in this trunk." Harry narrowed his eyes slightly as he glared down, "Unharmed," he said in a dangerous tone that demanded obedience. "Then I want you to return to Grimmauld Place and when none of the filth that currently resides there is in the library, store the books in the trunk as well. If anyone has removed a book from the library you are to take it back. Attempt to do so unnoticed, but if you must, use force, though leave them unharmed… for now," Harry finished ominously. "Do you understand Kreacher?" Harry finished in hard commanding voice.

During the instructions given to the elf, numerous emotions flew across his face, surprise, agreement, disbelief, determination, and finally joy. The last was creepy to witness on his aged face.

"Kreatcher understands Master, the filth won't be's touching Master's books for long." _Well that left me fairly ill, but at least he's doing what I tell him. _

"I will have more good news for you later, but once you are done I want you to return to me at the Leaky Caldron, if I am not there, gather up what artifacts you can from Grimmauld Place and store them in the other compartments. Do not contact anyone else or inform them of my commands, are we clear Kreacher?"

The elf nodded furiously and replied, "Kreacher understands Master, thank you Master."

As the deranged little sycophant began working, Harry return to the podium and sighed wearily, "I just wish there was more time for me to learn." _What else can I ask for that may be in the vault, I guess I… what the hell? _Upon the stone stage sat innocently a small hourglass. As Harry approached, realization sunk in. "No way!" Sitting right in front of him was his answer to his unintentional question for more time. The time turner, looking eerily similar to the one Hermione used in third year, glinted tantalizingly back at him. The difference appeared to be predominately the size. Instead of the small trinket build, this one was roughly the size of Harry's fist. The normally golden object was solid silver, with pitch black sand at the bottom.

Next to the larger time turner laid a piece of parchment that Harry began to read.

_The Time Piece of Corvin Black, created in 1632. While working in the Department of Mysteries at England's Ministry of Magic, Corvin designed what he felt was a superior device to simple time turners. Other similarly designed objects reverse time. The Time Piece of Corvin Black creates a separate pocket of time within the current, and ongoing, timeline. Discovering that any time period longer than thirty-six days resulted in his Muggle test subject's death; it is highly advised not to prolong one's stay within the time field the device creates. To those outside of the time field a single day will pass, but to all therein a maximum of thirty-six days may be experienced. No matter what alterations Corvin attempted that allowed for the devise to function, the range of the time field is a set one thousand meters. The device is requires twenty-four hours to recharge, no matter the duration spend in the time field. _

The parchment went on to describe the specifics of how it was created and very scientific jargon, along with a brief biography of Corvin Black. The more Harry read, the greater his excitement grew. _This will defiantly give me an edge, added time to train this summer, possible longer means I can have a fighting chance against Voldemort. I'll do the calculations for how much time this gives me later. _Pocketing the device quickly and deciding he'd spent enough time in a bank for the day, Harry strode out of his family vault.


	2. True Dark?

**True Dark?**

**Tuesday, June 30, 1996**

Leaving Gringotts, Harry stood out in front, wondering where to go first. Looking down at himself and seeing his shabby attire, Harry decided to visit Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions first. Turning left and quickly coming to the nearby shop, he entered under the soft jingle of the doorbell. _It's about time I get some decent clothes for a change. _

The friendly, squat witch Madam Malkin greeted Harry herself, saying, "What can I do for you dear?"

Smiling easily, the young wizard replied, "Quite a lot actually. I'm in need of many new robes. Do you also happen to carry Muggle attire?"

"We certainly do, they're all in the back. What kind of robes would you be looking for?"

Answering honestly, "I'm not sure, um... how about several every day robes, at least ten in various colors and thread. Probably five dress robes of your highest quality, again in different colors, though nothing flashy." As Harry was talking the older woman was nodding and writing on a piece of parchment she had pulled out. After another moment to think and let the witch catch up with what he was ordering, Harry continued, "Seven dueling robes of whatever quality would be best suited for such an activity, three sets of potion robes, two pairs of dragon hide boots, three pairs of dueling shoes, and I'd like to take a look at what you have in the back for Muggle dress."

Despite the large order, Madam Malkin took it in stride and spoke, "Of course dear, I'll pick out the materials and you can go have a look. Don't worry about sizes; everything is charmed to fit just perfectly."

Smiling to the lady, Harry moved to the end of the store and began browsing. Picking up a bottomless bag by the entryway that separates Muggle from magical, Harry started grabbing clothes. Dress shirts, t-shirts, collard shirts, and coats of different styles, colors, and length went into the bag. Different materials of various pants joined them soon after. Several belts and shoes finished his Muggle shopping spree as he made his way back to Madam Malkin.

The witch's arms were full of many different cloths in an assortment of colors, but were predominantly some variation of black. "I think the darker tones will complement you more dear." So for the next hour Harry was prodded and measured, as the store's owner dressed him again and again.

When asked about the lack of activity in the alley, all she said was, "Not many folks come around with Hogwarts being out so soon." Harry nodded as she muttered, "And dark times." Thinking for a minute while she worked he asked, "What charms could you put on my robes?"

"Many people choose the anti-tearing, as well as the waterproof charm, though we have many others." Hurrying off to grab a parchment, she returned and began working again, while Harry read.

After looking over the selections available, he said, "I think I'd like the anti-tearing, waterproof, auto sizing, fire resistance, and self cleaning charms on all the robes." She simply nodded and continued working.

Finally done, Madam Malkin started going through his Muggle selection and tallying up the total. "I should have all your robes done by Thursday dear, would you like to pick them up or have them delivered?"

"It must be my lucky day, I have a meeting Thursday at Gringotts, and so I'll pick them up. What time should I come by?"

"Eleven should be perfect," the woman replied easily. Thanking her again for her services and paying, while leaving a generous tip, Harry strode out of the store with his bag of Muggle clothes.

Walking next door and into Flourish and Blotts, he headed to the Defense against the Dark Arts section. Looking through the wide assortment of books, one in particular caught his eye. Harry read the introductory passage to The Only Real Defense.

_Very few books out there will tell you the truth and I half expect this one to be banned by the Ministry sooner or later. The shields used for defensive magic can be used for all but three spells. Though no known shield can block an Unforgivable, there are ways to easily avoid one, such as conjured, or summoned items to intercept a spell's path. Within this book the reader will discover the only one true way to defend against Dark magic. A wizard or witch could learn and master every shield in existence but unless you're familiar with the Dark Arts themselves you don't stand a chance. This book will show you the wand movements, incantations, and after effects of some of the most widely used Dark spells, along with a description of what they look like while coming at you. It is not advised to practice these spells as many are truly Dark and not just what the Ministry has classified as such. In order to put up the proper shield, you must be able to distinguish one Dark curse from the next. As this is a defense book, I'll be telling you the most effective shield for each curse. _

After reading, multiple thoughts were running through Harry's mind. _This is exactly what I was thinking when I had Kreacher gathering up all the books. You have to know Dark magic in order to defend against it. But what did the author mean when he said "truly" Dark? Why would the Ministry classify some spells are Dark when they weren't? _A minute later Harry scoffed to himself. _When does the Ministry do anything sensible? _Picking up one of the many bags that hung at the end of each row, he placed the book within and proceeded to fill it with many others. Not knowing which ones he already had, Harry grabbed anything and everything, from Wizarding law, to Muggle studies. Books ranging from first year to beyond N.E.W.T. level in Herbology, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense were all collected. Even if there were any books on anything other than the history of the Dark Arts, which he picked up, Harry was pretty sure that he had one of the largest selections from the Black library and vault on the subject. Because he had no clear idea what he was looking for, Harry was able to rush through each section, snatching books up left and right. _If Hermione could see me now_, he thought humorously.

Deciding he didn't want to arise too much suspicion, Harry called it quits and headed to the cashier. As the young man behind the counter continued to pull book upon book out, with ever widening eyes, he finally spoke while continuing, "Merlin! How many did you get?"

Grinning sheepishly, Harry lied easily, "My father just received an inheritance and wanted to start a family library, and with me being a Ravenclaw I figured I'd help out."

The young man seemed to accept this and continued unpacking. Once the large pile of books was stacked upon the counter, he waved his wand and a total emerged in the air. Reaching into his bottomless moneybag, Harry paid and asked, "Since I've nowhere to put these," gesturing to the pile, "could I buy the bag, or borrow it and bring it back later?"

"Sure pal, just give me four Galleons and we'll be square." Paying the man and reloading his books Harry made his way back into the alley.

Just past noon and feeling slightly hungry, he headed toward the Leaky Caldron for a meal and to unload his purchases. Entering, Harry went to the bar where Tom took his order. About halfway through his meal, the boy-who-lived heard the voice of a certain pink haired Auror. "I don't like it Remus, he never comes out of the house. Mad-Eye says he mostly just lies around in his room."

Trying not to panic about the close proximity, Harry continued to listen. "He didn't go out when you were on guard today?" Hermione asked. _Why's Hermione here? And why the hell are they talking about my life behind my back instead of paying me a visit if they're so worried about me?_

"Dumbledore says he has to stay there. I know it sucks for him, believe me I do, but I'm sure the Headmaster has a good reason, after all he wouldn't ask Hermione and me to watch him last year if he didn't" Ron spoke softly.

"I still can't believe Albus made you two do that. My advise, never tell Harry you guys were reporting on him. He doesn't trust easily and I'm not sure he would ever forgive either of you" Remus replied.

Hermione took a deep breath and answered wearily, "Your right Remus, I felt guilty the whole time, but sometimes he just rushes into things without thinking. Someone needs to look out for him."

By this point Harry was shaking with rage. _Those sons of bitches! Some friends, keeping tabs on me and running off the first chance they get to the old man. That's good advice Lupin, tell my friends to keep secrets from me, worked out well for your little group didn't it? I need to get out of here before I beat the shit out of any of them. _

Paying Tom and asking for a room, Harry took the offered key and kept his back turned to the four in the booth as he made his way upstairs. Once inside he leaned back against the door breathing heavily and thinking. _Maybe they were just…No! _He thought viscously. _Why would Hermione be feeling guilt if what she was doing was right? They both made a conscious decision to act as spies and betray my trust. At least Tonks was worried; the rest of them just bent over and took it from dear old Dumbledore. It's becoming more and more easy to accept that if he stands in the way of the Decretum, of the new order, of my dream, he will have to be dealt with. I'll deal with the traitors later, I need to focus on step one._

Taking a few calming breaths, Harry proceeded to unpack his Muggle clothes and books. Sitting on the bed, he thought, _I need to find a way around the underage restriction. _A minute more, an idea came to him, _Underage magic is illegal. Knockturn Alley deals in questionable things, perhaps a few downright criminal. That would be my best option, plus I want to figure out what that book meant by "truly"Dark. _

Pulling his hood up and wrapping his cloak around himself tightly, he grabbed the bottomless bag that once held his collection from Flourish and Blotts. Harry made his way downstairs and with a quick glance at the previously occupied booth, he was glad to see that his _friends _had left. Moving toward the brick wall and tapping his wand selectively, he reentered Diagon and headed to the adjacent alley across from Gringotts. Knockturn was dimly lit and even in the early afternoon it was shrouded in darkness. Walking with a long confident stride, no one bothered him. Borgin and Burkes was easily the largest of the shops Harry saw in the alley, across from one that looked to be selling shrunken heads. Entering the shady establishment, with a bell ringing, not unlike the one in Madam Malkins, though it seemed out of place, Harry strode toward the counter where the oily form of Mr. Borgin sat.

Lowering his hood, the two men gazed upon one another. Finally, Mr. Borgin spoke, "May I help you sir?" he asked in a slow, yet eager tone.

Briefly looking at the wall behind the man that was filled with dangerous looking trinkets, Harry replied, "Yes sir. I'm looking to remove official eyes that are too focused on my wand, along with several of your more _shadowy_ books."

A thoughtful expression appeared on the elderly man's face, obviously trying to discern if Harry was working for the Ministry. Finding whatever he was looking for, Mr. Borgin answered, "While those eyes are difficult and costly to shy away from, there are a few… costly methods that may help. Some of the books I have that don't get much sun are very old and as such…"

"Costly." Harry answered in understanding. "While I may not know the true value of many of your wears, I can assure you that if I feel the price is fair, there will be a significant bonus for your trouble… and silence."

The greedy expression on Mr. Borgin's face grew before he departed to the back of the store. Returning not two minutes later with a small vial filled with a purplish liquid, he spoke, "If you will place the tip of your wand within?" After Harry did so cautiously, and the elder man continued, "The potion will blind any _eyes _from upon your wand for two years."

Nodding once, Harry inquired, "And your books?"

Mr. Borgin gestured for Harry to follow him into the depths of the store. The pair reached a small bookcase filled with the skulls of many different creatures, including several human. Taking out his wand, the older man tapped it on several different skulls, not unlike the entryway into Diagon. The bookcase swung open to reveal a dank looking room lined with books and what Harry assumed were other illegal items.

Walking into the room, Harry began looking at the books. The collection consisted only of a few dozen tomes, but from what he could see, they were certainly interesting. Several were wrapped in what Harry was sure was human skin, while others seemed to have scars. Apparently seeing his customer's cautiousness, Mr. Borgin spoke, "All of these works are safe to handle, and any curses that were once on them have been since removed."

Nodding absently Harry proceeded to select six tomes from the collection, including Origins of the Dark Arts, Bloodmagic, Necromancy: The Early Risers, Dark Rituals and Runes: The Ascension of Possibilities, Dark Magic: Interacting with Dark Creatures, and, one in a language he couldn't read, but looked to contain long lists of ingredients and instructions, so it was assumed to be a potions book. Harry was fairly sure that a couple of these may have been in his library, but felt it was better to be safe than sorry, as he did not want to return anytime soon. Showing each of the books to Mr. Borgin and with him nodding, Harry placed them within his bag. While the pair was walking back to the counter, Harry finally decided to ask, "What exactly is the difference between what the Ministry says in Dark and what truly is?"

"The feeling young sir, the feeling," was all the man said.

Figuring he'd best not inquire further, Harry took his wand out of the now empty vial and cast a simple protego and paid the man. Looking into his greedy eyes, Harry spoke, "I have a proposition for you sir, if you would like to earn a considerable sum repeatedly." The man nodded eagerly, while being readdressed. "If you would be so kind as to create a list of all the books you come into possession of, I will send my house elf to retrieve it and see if any interest me. The subject is irrelevant; I currently have a vast collection, so the rarer tomes would be… handsomely rewarded. If you would be so kind as to hold all the books until the elf visits you once a week, you will be given a thousand Galleons to compensate for the potential loss of revenue, regardless of me buying anything. Further gold will be given if I decide to purchase what you offer. Would this partnership be to your liking?"

The sight of the man before Harry literally drooling nearly caused him to vomit. After collecting himself, Mr. Borgin could do little more than nod, until he asked, "How will I know the elf is yours?"

"Decretum is the only thing you need to remember." Even though feeling that the total of seven thousand Galleons was overcharge, he tipped Mr. Borkin a hundred more, and exited the shop, making his way back Leaky Caldron. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Sitting in his rented room, Harry waited for Kreacher to return by passing the time looking over his Dark Rituals and Runes book. The text seemed to be about adjustments that could be made to the human body by either searing runic symbols into the flesh, or performing various rituals. The reason, Harry assumed, that these were termed "Dark" was because of the sacrifices that had to be made. According to the book, one could achieve great power through many of the sacrifices, however to Harry; many required a price that was too high. _Unless I find a Death Eater virgin, I'll stick with my current respectable dick length, thank you very much. _

The runes within the tomes' pages bore the stigma of being evil because of the pain that they brought when being applied. To Harry this didn't make much sense, normally runes were used on various objects or aided in ward creation and application, but if someone wants to undergo a lot of pain, and the book does specify _a lot, _then he felt that it should be their decision. Most of the runes interested the young wizard, but he knew for certain that there were four he was going to attempt. The increased stamina, strength, speed, and reflex runes were going to be his first. There were many that increased mental capabilities that interested him also, though he read that they were a higher level, which meant more pain apparently.

Just before he could read the description of one said mentally aiding runes, a sharp crack echoed within the tiny room. Kreacher bowed low with his hand on Harry's large trunk. "Kreacher has gathered all the books Master has asked" the elf spoke, unusually coherent.

"Excellent Kreacher, are any of the books cursed?" Harry asked.

Kreacher, looking at him now replied, "Not any longer Master, Kreacher removed bads wizard magic."

_Well flattery can get you places. _"Good work Kreacher, as a reward I am making you my head elf. Thursday morning we will be leaving for our new home. Once we are there I will put you in charge of hiring other elves worthy of serving the House of Black. I need a cook, two maids, and two grounds keepers" Harry instructed.

The elf, looking troubled, asked "What will Kreacher be doing Master?"

Harry smiled; he quite liked the new attitude the elf was showing. "Don't worry Kreacher, you will be in charge of the other elves, and also be my personal aid. You are the head elf of the House of Black now." The little guy preened at the responsibility, a truly sickening sight for Harry. "Now, for an elf such as yourself, you must represent the House of Black better than wearing a dirty old pillowcase like some disgusting Muggle. Can you obtain your own garments without being set free?"

Kreacher seemed to look upon his wears with a new form of loathing, being compared to a Muggle apparently didn't sit well with him. "Kreacher be's getting better clothes for new Master Black."

"Good, now a new rule I would like to implement, you are not to beat yourself unless I command it, I can be a merciful Master. If you feel you have done something wrong, report it to me and I will decide if it's worthy of punishment. Understand?" _I can't have the little bastard killing himself for dropping a dish… not before he's outlived his usefulness._ Kreacher nodded furiously, very similar to Dobby, in agreement before being dismissed.

Sighing at the task before him, Harry began loading his newly acquired books into the trunk, followed by the multitude of Muggle clothes, before settling back onto the bed and continuing to read about Dark runes. He learned that all Dark runes are put into one of three groups, or tiers. The lowest ones offer the least amount of pain, being anywhere from four and eight hours. The other two at an ever increasing amount, with the highest tiers' maximum pain duration being twenty straight hours of what the book called _gruesome agony. _Harry wasn't too enthused to try any of those, but he continued reading nonetheless. Eventually he came upon one named the Confuto Memoria, or Supreme Memory. It was listed as a third tier rune set, with nineteen hours of pain, though Harry read the description anyway.

_The Confuto Memoria is among the most difficult to both draw and endure. With the acquired ability to recall even the slightest detail of any experience the bearer is able to either read or see anything done only once in order to remember. It is because the benefits of such a rune set are so vast, and the pain so exquisite, that it is placed within the third tier. Due to the effects of the marking, mind altering spells hold little to no real affect on those that posses it. While the Confundus spell's effects are greatly reduced, Obliviate is rendered ineffective. It was theorized that the Imperius curse would be different upon those that held the Confutus Memoria, however it was revealed that mental recollection was ineffective and that the superior will of a caster can still result in complete control. The benefits received from the tattoo will have no effect on the memories or experiences before it was applied. Individuals brave, and ambitious enough to place the seal upon their flesh, have described their past memories has, "hazy and unclear." While they still retain these memories as well as the current reader does his, or her own, they will pale in comparison once the rune is in place. _

All thoughts of drawing any other runes before this one vanished from Harry's mind. _Apparently fate has decided to throw me a few bones, first Corvin's time turner, now this. If I can draw this rune set I would be able to remember every spell I ever read about. Hell, I'd remember everything! I wouldn't need to refer to books I'd already been through, only to say ah, that's right._

Another moment and Harry finally began to calm down. His eyes narrowed slightly in thought and suspicion, before thinking, _Why hadn't Voldemort tried this? Why hadn't anyone for that matter? _Looking back to the front after marking his place, Harry glanced at the copyright, which simply stated, _10__th__ Century_. Reading the author's note, he discovered the contents were originally from an Egyptian wizard, but later translated in 1602 and edited. Apparently the Wizarding world knew of a few runes that could be placed on the body, but only the first tier, and called them Dark because of the pain. _Now I know why my total was so high at Borgin and Burke's. This book is near priceless._

Moving off his bed and opening up his trunk, Harry began searching through his books. Apparently Kreacher had filled both the library, and small bedroom compartments to the brim, with nearly thirty others in another. It was then that Harry Potter truly learned of the awe-inspiring number of tomes in his possession. Realizing there was probably Kreacher logic to the order in which they were in; he called out, "Kreacher!" Instantly the elf popped by his side and gave the customary bow.

"Master is calling Kreacher?"

"Yes, I want you to locate all the books on current Wizarding laws," Harry commanded. He made his way back to the bed and sat. It would seem that he was correct about elf logic, because in no time Kreacher came waddling over under the heavy load of eight books. The sight was so pathetically funny; Harry almost offered help… almost.

Placing the books down on the bed, Kreacher looked up, "Anything else Master?"

Harry was about to dismiss the elf, when a thought came to mind that he voiced. "Why do elves not wish to be free?

Something Harry said caused the little creature to drop to his knees and clutching his own chest wheezed out, "Kreacher doesn't want to be free! Kreacher doesn't! Kreacher was wrong about new Master, Kreacher sorry, he tries to serve new Master better, don't free Kreacher! Please!"

He probably would have kept on rambling if he hadn't needed breath and Harry interrupted his rant, "I am never going to free you Kreacher." This stopped any more ideas of the elf resuming his pleading diatribe as he looked at Harry with tears still glistening in his eyes. "I simply wish to know why elves don't want to be free. I doubt they always served wizards, so, why not?"

"House elves bond Master," Kreacher answered simply, but continued as Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "We's cannot live without bonding to another. Ways back we bonded with filthy horsemen or the greedy money elves, but then wizards come, we bond to them too. We's all bond to wizards now. We's always served our bonded. If not bonded elves's die."

When Kreacher finished Harry started laughing. _Oh Hermione would… no, that traitor doesn't deserve the respect of me calling her by her fist name. But still, Granger would die when she finds out she was attempting mass elf genocide in trying to free them. _Calming down slightly, but occasionally chuckling, he readdressed Kreacher, "What about the elves at Hogwarts?"

A nasty sneer appeared on the elf's face, and spoke, "They's be bonded to the castle Master. Not many places have magic enough for elves to bind too, but the place with mudbloods does."

Deciding to make the first change in Kreacher's personality, Harry spoke, "I've decided Kreacher, we aren't to say mudblood anymore," seeing the look of suspicion he quickly continued, "My mother was Muggleborn. So I will not have you dishonoring her by using that word." Sighing as he saw the elf getting flustered, he readdressed him, "You can saw Muggleblood if you want, but they're really first generation purebloods. Besides they're wizards and witches, obviously much better than Muggles and half-breeds right?" The elf appeared to nod in acceptance, though Harry could tell there was lingering suspicion. "Do you think that purebloods simply appeared? No, if you go far enough back you could see that all purebloods are descendants of Muggleborn far, far back."

Instead of getting angry, Kreacher simply narrowed his eyes, though not in malice, but in concentration. Finally he asked, "So Mistress was from mud…Muggleblood?"

"She was still a pureblood Kreacher. Muggleborns are the very first and purest of their magical line."

"But they are raised my filthy Muggles!" Suddenly a look a worry overcame him, before shouting, "We's have to save them, we's to get them away from filthy Muggles. Filthy Muggles hurt wizards!"

_Now there's a thought. Wow I must be really loosing it if I'm considering Kreacher's advice…but still, an idea to consider later. At least he's concerned about them; the complete one-eighty is unnerving though. _"Don't worry Kreacher. Many of the filthy Muggles are too scared to do anything." _I wish that was true. _"But we'll save them all soon.

Kreacher actually smiled as he said, "You's is great Master to Kreacher. Kreacher is glad to serve new better Master." Harry let the _better Master_ jibe at Sirius slide and was about to dismiss the elf, when his thoughts of his Godfather gave him an idea and were the result of the cruel smirk on his face.

"Kreacher I have a little mission for you." Seeing that the elf stood straighter, he continued, "I want you to cause a little mayhem at Grimmauld Place. Make the people who are staying there's time… unpleasant. Cut down one of all the chair's legs slightly to start, remove buttons from people's clothing, whatever you can think of. Don't injure anyone. When a lot of people come by to meet, I want you to periodically open the drapes covering Lady Black. You can do this to anyone but the pink haired women, and keep her out of trouble."

The entire time Harry was speaking, the elf matched his cruel smirk with one of his own, until the remark about Tonks brought a look of confusion to his face. Once his Master finished, Kreacher asked, "Why not the Changling Master?"

Grinning at the name, he replied, "She is a Black in blood and should be treated with respect, you can follow her orders but don't let them interfere with mine. Don't tell anyone about me being your Master, or anything else actually; only answer questions that won't lead them to finding anything out about me. If you aren't sure if I would let you follow an order... the _Changling _gives you, come to me to find out, and finally, when addressing her, call her Miss Changling."

Nodding as Harry turned around in a dismissive manner after he finished speaking Kreacher popped away. Reaching out for one of the law books, the young man began searching for anything regarding Dark runes. _This would be easier with the Confuto Memoria_, Harry thought. After an hour, he finally found a small passage from 1609, shortly after the Dark rune book was edited, that stated, _runic magic that is tattooed into the flesh, has been found to qualify as a branch of the Dark Arts due to the amount of pain one must endure. It is by Ministry decree that those currently bearing any and all said markings will serve a period of no less than five years per rune in Azkaban. Any individual who does not come forward to serve his or her sentence, or those found with markings afterward, will be deemed an enemy of the state and subject to a life sentence in said prison._

Putting down the book with wide eyes, Harry thought about the runes he had wanted to attempt. The few he selected would make him a guest in the Wizarding prison for twenty-five years. He began seriously reconsidering getting these markings before his rebellious mind kicked in. _So what? They would throw me in Azkaban for far longer if they figure out what I plan to do! This is just another reason the Ministry needs to go. There constant discrimination and fear against anything outside of the norm pushes them to enact laws unjustly. Pain? That's their only reasoning? _

As Harry continued to think, he realized several problems. First, according to the Dark runes book, the markings he would receive were notoriously difficult to conceal. Glamour spells could be cast, but dissipated in half the time. Nothing short of a Disillusionment charm or invisibility cloak would work. Polyjuice certainly did the trick, but the prolonged use of the potion wrecked havoc on one's liver. Secondly, if he couldn't conceal the tattoos he had to find a way for them to become socially acceptable, but he certainly didn't want Death Eaters having more of an edge than the willingness to kill. Suddenly he realized he was the boy-who-lived, and from the brief glimpse at the _Daily Prophet_ he saw, he was a hero again. _By now Fudge is looking like the idiot he is to the public. If I give him something, maybe I could get immunity for the bearing Dark rune tattoos. _Casting a quick tempus, and seeing that it just past four-thirty, Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote.

_Minister Fudge,_

_I understand you are under extreme pressure from the public in these dark times and would like to offer my aid. I'm sure our cooperation could be mutually beneficial. If you would like to meet me at your earliest convenience please let me know. For security reasons it is advisable you keep both my letter and any future meetings secret._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter_

Folding the letter and casting a quick sealing charm, Harry pocketed it and, reapplied makeup to his forehead. Proceeding to exit the pub, he made his way toward the Owl Post Office where he sent off the letter and returned to the Caldron. Walking over and speaking with Tom, he asked, "Would it be possible to get a meal sent up to my room?"

"Sure lad, just give me your order and I'll send it right up." Asking for a club sandwich and some crisps before paying, Harry moved back into his room, foregoing the silencing charm until his meal arrived, he continued reading about Dark runes. Only five minutes in, a knock on his door was heard. Grabbing his wand just to be safe, he opened the door to see Tom with a plate of food. Thanking the man, Harry returned to his room and proceeded to silence it, and place a stasis charm on his food for later, he returned to the book.

Learning that each rune varied slightly in size, ranging from a Galleon to a CD, all were circular, and that the exact placement was necessary to be able to utilize the magic it offered. The Confuto Memoria specifically was among those smallest, being no bigger than a mouse head, and being required to be on the upper back of the neck. _Well even if Fudge refuses, I could do this rune set without anyone noticing. Small and it overlaps both the spine and skull. Even if I cut my hair short, only half of the tattoo would be seen._

It was just after seven, returning from placing his empty plate outside the door, that Harry discovered why Voldemort had never chosen to delve into Dark runes. Harry read the passage in interest. _Due to the unique and vast abilities potentially gained from the searing of runic markings upon the flesh, a tradeoff is necessary. One with the markings, even singular, one is unable to leave his or her body upon death. Unless the vessel is burned the spirit cannot pass on to the other side. Take great caution, if the body of one that bears a runic mark or marks is not destroyed and continues to become one with the earth it lies upon, a fate of horror beyond imagining awaits. Luckily it takes anywhere from several decades to several thousand years for the human vessel to become nothing more than dust. The entity the marked becomes upon death is stagnant, unable to move until the body, or what is left of it is destroyed. With every passing year, the remains go unburned; pain will increase for the being that is less than a spirit. It would take hundreds of years for the pain to reach a level even remotely equal to when a rune is applied, but amplify it will. It is advisable that if seeking to place a marking upon your person, you leave clear instructions in the event of your death. Because the engravings are not only on one's flesh, but rather their very soul as well, it is impossible for those who have created anchors to this plane to bear a mark._

Running his hands under his glasses and smearing his makeup slightly, Harry pondered the words he had just read. It wasn't as if he didn't take the warning seriously, it was just that he felt that if steps were taken he'd have nothing to worry about. The last sentence bothered him though. _Anchored to this plane? _For some reason he couldn't help but feel this is what Voldemort had done. He knew he wasn't a ghost, when his first body was destroyed, but how he managed to survive, Harry didn't know. _I'll have to figure that out later. With a huge library, the answer has to be there somewhere, or at Hogwarts. _

Lying back against the bed's pillow, he decided he needed to think this through. _Okay, I tattoo a few of these runes on my body and if I die, I'm stuck inside, unable to move, or communicate in anyway, and can't pass on until I'm torched and nothing but ash. Surprisingly wizards bury their dead more so than Muggles. I'd say nearly seventy percent are cremated, so if I leave a will with Gringotts and keep a note on me at all times, I should be good to go. It's not like my dead body will go unnoticed. Fame working for me there. I don't plan of anchoring my soul so I'm not seeing a downside. Maybe there's a spell out there to find a dead body, or I can create one later._

Then resolved to place the runes and take steps to ensure he would see his loved ones on the other side, Harry felt the weight of the day press against his eyelids. He didn't know exactly why, but feelings of certainty, and hope for the future calmed him. Not bothering to remove his glasses, Harry Potter drifted off into a dream where Voldemort didn't exist and the magical utopia of the island nation lead the world into a new era.


	3. Slytherin Mind, Gryffindor Heart

**Slytherin Mind, Gryffindor Heart**

**Wednesday, July 1, 1996**

Light flooded through the small window of the ninth room above the Leaky Caldron. Blearily a teen blinked his eyes and absently straightened his askew glasses as he groaned. Reaching, still on the edges of sleep, a hand gripped the wand resting on his bedside table and murmuring a word, numbers appeared, indicating it was half past eight. Grumbling slightly the young man made his way to the bathroom where he began running a shower and removing his clothes. Just before he stepped under the water, he jumped back. "That was close," the boy, Harry Potter said. _I don't have any more hair dye and since I'm still inept at casting glamours, that could have been a problem. _Taking a washcloth and wetting it slightly he began gliding it over his exposed flesh, while the memories of yesterday flooded his mind.

Escaping the Dursleys, Gringotts, the time turner, shopping, his former friend's betrayal, the Dark runes… _The Dark runes, and… Fudge! I hope he gets back to me soon. Ha, imagine that me, actually wanting a meeting with the dear old Minister. Whether he gives me the all clear or not to get the runes, I need to start studying the one I want the most…the Confuto Memoria. _

Moving out of the bathroom, Harry proceeded to open one of his trunk's many compartments and don muggle jeans and a t-shirt. _Better not let Kreacher see me like this. _Snatching up his book on the Dark runes, he flipped to the page containing the instructions for how to draw the Supreme Memory set. The small circle was separated into four pieces, with multiple miniature runes within. Taking out a piece of parchment and a quill, Harry began practicing one-fourth of the set, repeatedly drawing it over and over. Three and a half hours later, he felt confident he could draw it with his quill without looking at the text as a reference. He was about to try tracing with his wand when his stomach began growling. _Great, forgot breakfast. _Harry switched out his circular glasses for the cheaper horn rimmed pair and applying the necessary makeup, before heading down to the pub. Sitting at the bar again, he placed his order and asked if Tom could send up some dinner at seven. Paying the man for both meals, as well as another night, Harry took his lunch plate back upstairs.

Pacing around his room while nibbling on a drumstick, Harry thought about the possible meeting with Fudge. _While a complete idiot, he's obviously done something to be able to stay in power for so long. Yeah, being an easily bribed politician. I almost hope he stays in office so that when the Decretum take over, it'll be smoother. _Trying to calm his excitement at the future possibilities, he refocused. _Fudge will want something, most likely my public support. I obviously can't outright give it to him, that would make me appear as idiotic as he is, but something that the sheep could construe as either positive or negative. I need to…stop! I need to stop. I'm getting ahead of myself here; actually I'm already ahead of myself. Sending that letter to Fudge was a mistake. _

Sighing, Harry realized that what he'd overhead from Granger yesterday was true. He does rush into things without thinking. He did it with Sirius and he was doing it again not a month later. _If I'm going to see my plan work, to see the actual creation of the Decretum I need to think first, and then act! My plan is ambitious, and it requires patience, cunning, and forethought. It requires a Slytherin's mind, not a Gryffindor's heart. My personal passion voiced the idea, but if I want to see it achieved I need to be smart. _Harry decided that no matter what Fudge's reply, it was too early to be talking with politicians.

He would perform the Dark runes regardless of the Ministry had said in the past. He would learn all he could about every aspect of magic before he had to return to Hogwarts and any loopholes within the laws against those bearing the Dark runes. _Merlin, the law was made what?... nearly four hundred years ago, I'd bet some old laws just get forgotten, but I'll have to find out specifics later. _With his focus reset, Harry proceeded to practice drawing a piece of his desired rune.

Only two hours later, a soft pecking was heard on his window. Strolling over and throwing it open, he was surprised to see two owls fly in. One of the owls Harry recognized as Pig from the Burrow and seemed to be carrying two letters, moving quickly to relieve the tiny creature of its burden, Harry untied the two notes, but before he could do anything else the miniature owl took off back out the window. Glancing over at the other, more pristine looking owl, he asked, "You going to leave me to?" Hooting easily, the bird simply raised its foot and was soon removed of the letter, though didn't leave. "Since your waiting I'll read yours first." Tearing open the letter, Harry looked down and read.

_Mr. Potter,_

_Unfortunately, as you said, these are dark times, and as such I am extremely busy. Currently I do not have time to meet with you but appreciate you support nonetheless. I'm sure the Ministry will prevail in the trying times ahead._

_Respectfully,_

_Minister of Magic Cornelius O. Fudge_

Smirking at the bird and giving him a few of his lunch leftovers, Harry spoke, "Well it seems old Fudge is a little fearful of how to deal with me, so he's opting for the out of sight, out of mind campaign again. Luckily he declined the meeting so I don't have to leave him out to dry waiting for me. Anyway, thanks for the post, I don't have anything for you to take back." The bird hopped off the bedpost and soared out the window.

Looking disdainfully at the other two letters, Harry instantly recognized the handwriting addressing them both to him. Picking up the moron's first he ripped it open, shredding a corner of the parchment, but paid it no mind as he read.

_Hey mate. I know, it sucks with the Muggles but Dumbledore said he's picking you up to let you go to the Burrow the week before your birthday. I know how much you hate surprises, so there "won't" be one when you get here. See you soon._

_Ron_

Crumpling up the paper and tossing it into the air, Harry whipped out his wand and said, "Incendio!" The parchment met the flames shooting out of the end of Harry's wand and erupted, falling as ash upon the floor. Luckily, silencing charms were in place, as Harry Potter started his rant, "Let me? LET ME? So my jailor is giving me visitation rights! I almost wish Moody wouldn't be on guard tomorrow night, so that the old man would find my letter himself. He'd probably hide it and say it was never there. MANIPULATIVE OLD BASTARD! And that's right Ron…_mate_! You certainly know how much it _sucks_ living in an abusive home you greedy, jealous, traitorous, IDIOT!" Breathing heavily by the end, it took several more minutes to calm down. _Its okay, it doesn't matter. They're nothing. I get to scream and cry, bitch and moan all I want when I'm by myself. And that redheaded dumbass is nothing to even worry about anymore. _

Picking up and other letter, he took another calming breath and promised himself that neither of them matter anymore. Much more carefully than the last letter, Harry opened it and closed his eyes briefly, praying he could stay calm. The letter was much longer and he briefly thought to just burn it without wasting his time, but he finally relented and delved in.

_Harry,_

_I know you're probably still upset about Sirius' passing, but please, you know he wouldn't want that. Don't go blaming yourself; the only one responsible is Voldemort. Now I know the Headmaster is picking you up near the end of July so it would probably be best if you finished your schoolwork ahead of time, N.E.W.T.s are just a year away and we…_

The flames of another incendio consumed the letter. _Yep, your right Granger I'm upset. But why only settle for Riddle, when the blame is so plentiful, with more than enough to go around. _Taking a deep calming breath, Harry continued in an internal playacting voice, _got to do that homework, it's not like there's a Dark Lord on my ass, who wants you and the rest of the muggleborns dead, just to appease his blood supremacist followers. You just wait till I get to school Granger, then the funs really going to begin. _

Before he began concocting diabolical schemes to make the pair's lives absolute hell, he saw the Dark runes book and refocused. Harry continued to practice tracing the first piece of the rune set and only stopped to eat dinner, which Tom brought up promptly at seven. Lying down he gathered his thoughts and continue to plan. _I could probably finish up the whole Confuto Memoria and be ready to apply it in four days. I'll activate the time turner tomorrow afternoon, whenever I get to the castle, and train in nothing but Dark runic magic for the first thirty-six straight days._

Letting his mind drift in an out of various thoughts, a few came to the surface. _Friday is the third and that gives me… exactly sixty days to train until September, but half of those need to be off days to let the device recharge. So I have thirty days to spend in a time field where thirty-six days go by. Thirty-six multiplied by thirty equals... Holy shit! That can't be right… Nope, holy shit was right. Three full years can be spent training to powerful enough to take down Voldemort. With the added help of the runes I could be pretty damn powerful, not to mention the ongoing training while at Hogwarts. _The knowledge that he had extra time, three full years if he wished, to do nothing else but train like a madman, train to be a killer, train to be a leader, gave Harry Potter great comfort. For the first time since Sirius died, and hearing the prophecy, the young man with the lightning bolt shaped scar felt that things in his life were looking up.

Harry had spent an hour lying on the bed in the Leaky Caldron, simply thinking, when he slowly rose, not rushed but resolute in his actions. Sitting at the desk he wrote upon a piece of parchment the basic goals he had for his training.

_Complete the Confuto Memoria and any other Dark runes._

_Get into peak fighting condition._

_Master the following: Charms, Defense, the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Warding, Potions, Herbology, Necromancy, Occlumency, Legilimency, Healing, Ancient Runes, Arithmacy, Apparition, Bloodmagic, Martial Arts, and Muggle weapon fighting_

_Additionally study: History, pertaining to war, including Wizarding and Muggle strategy and tactics. Spell and portkey creation, learn multiple magical languages, along with past and current Wizarding laws. Study the cultures of sentient magical beings, and if time permitting, other creatures as well._

Harry knew the list was long, but he could see reasoning in every subject. The young wizard was certain that, given time, even more could be learned. His resolve to better both himself and the world around him had never been more unwavering. Taking a deep breath and turning his body toward his open trunk he called out, "Kreacher."

The elf, now dressed in black silk pillow case with a pair of intertwining silver snakes on the top left breast replied, "Yes Master Black?"

Grinning slightly, Harry noticed Kreacher held himself better, obviously confident in his new wears, before addressing him, "Tomorrow morning I want you to travel to the apothecary and obtain five servings of every ingredient in stock, you will take this with you and should cover the cost." Harry proceeded to place a hefty sum in the bag previously taken from Madam Malkin's and give it to the elf. I also want you to be ready to join me at our new home. I will call you at roughly one o'clock. Afterwards you will be sent out to obtain various items for me, including the necessary house elves." Kreacher stood proud and matched Harry's own determination. His Master was halfway turned around when he spoke again, "You look good Kreacher, worthy of the Black head elf." Hearing the soft pop from behind him, Harry thought, _that was the first conversation I didn't the little guy. _

**Thursday, July, 2, 1996**

Deciding he'd had enough of sleeping late, Harry moved out of bed and proceeded to stretch. Hearing the bones crack and pop, he groaned audibly. After splashing water on his face, the tempus spell was cast, and seeing as he had another hour before picking up his purchases from Madam Malkin, Harry decided to continue his practice of drawing the Dark runes. Once an hour had passed, the boy-who-lived, felt confident that he could perform a fourth of the full set. Proceeding to pack any stray books or items that may be lying around the room into his trunk and shrinking it, Harry made his way down the stairs, through the entryway, and into Diagon. A short conversation with the delightfully pleasant witch, and his robe purchases stored away, he exited the store and moved the short distance into Gringotts. The teller from the other day noticed Harry immediately, and moved to escort him through the bank's maze of hallways. Once again being lead into Whipshank's office, Harry greeted him kindly and took a seat while the goblin began speaking.

"Mr. Potter it appears that we have discovered the problems with your mail reaching you. Your former magical guardian, before your emancipation, Albus Dumbledore had all mail redirected to him."

_That old man just can't keep well enough out of my life! _"Is there some way in which I may receive my monthly statement and any mail sent from Gringotts through other magical means?" Harry asked, attempting to reign in his anger.

"Certainly Mr. Potter" Whipshank replied, taking out a box that looked like it was designed for muggle outgoing mail, had it not been for the runes etched into the sides. "This will allow you to both send and receive Gringotts mail through me personally. If you ever have a need, please do not hesitate to contact me."

Thanking the goblin and receiving his portkey to his new home, Harry quickly felt the familiar tug in his navel. Landing in a heap, surrounded by six goblins, Harry stood and greeted them.

"Mr. Potter if you would be so kind as to stand here," spoke, what Harry assumed was the lead warder.

Situated in front of the large gates of his new castle, Harry couldn't help but stare out in wonder. The castle might have been new to Harry; however it was certainly old enough. The dark stones were covered in vines and other foliage that clung to the walls. Gargoyles littered the tops of the structure. The grounds appeared slightly overgrown, though nothing two elves couldn't fix soon enough. With a slight slope in the earth on either side of the structure, it gave off the appearance that the castle was floating. Twin black stone towers loomed on each side of the front entry; Harry could just make out a bronzed door, which he assumed was the entrance. Before he could continue his visual assault, a small notebook was being placed in his hands by the lead goblin.

"This includes the list of wards upon your property Mr. Potter. Currently only you are able to access your castle or see it in its true form. Good day sir." Before Harry could respond, the warding team was gone, leaving Harry in front of a dark, foreboding structure that he would call home and possibly headquarters for years to come.

XXXXXXXXXXX

If Harry thought that the castle looked big on the outside, its interior was enormous. Thankfully it didn't appear to out do the maximum range of his new time turner. With opulent marble flooring, high ceilings, and a decorum that screamed sophistication, the castle held twenty-six bedrooms, each with their own bath, the library was vast, though nothing compared to Hogwarts', a gym near the pools, with the two greenhouses off to the side, it truly was a castle, it even had the dungeons, however, they seemed pretty boring, just cold stone and shackles, though Harry had the thought that they could be used in his runic and ritualistic magics. Harry's favorite rooms would have had to be the large, bright potions lab, the fully muggle equipped gym, and the dueling room. What appealed to Harry about the dueling room were the multiple training dummies. There were ten total, each with various levels of ability. They were programmed to fire stinging jinxes, or stunning spells. Additionally, muggle hand to hand fighting could be separately demonstrated by the dummies, or incorporated so that Harry would have to deal with both magical and physical attacks.

Kreacher's reaction had scared the crap out of Harry, when he was called, because he took one look at the place and started grinning like a loon, muttering "worthy of the House of Black." But aside from the insane facial features, Kreacher hired all the necessary elves and worked on sorting everything within the library, though Harry told him to arrange the books alphabetically by category and then alphabetically therein, and not his elf version. Harry was pretty sure he had organized the trunk in such a way were the first letter of each book spelled out "pureblood" somehow.

Quickly recalculating the number of days he had left in the summer term and coming to the conclusion that if he utilized every day he could, he would indeed have three years to train. Harry informed his elves of how the device worked and the limitations of their movements. It wouldn't do well to test what would happen if an elf suddenly popped out of the time field. He assigned Kreacher to weekly visit Mr. Borgin with his payment and get any list he may have. Teaching the elf to pronounce Decretum properly was frustrating but he eventually got it. The helpful little creatures stocked up on enough food to last a year and watching Kreacher boss the other elves around was like observing a drill sergeant, scary sure, but Harry felt kind of proud he was taking to his new role so well.

Harry gathered the elves together and told them to meet here every other day when he activated the devise. In the early evening of the first day in the castle he twisted the two ends in opposite directions and set the time turner down to watch the black sand slowly trickle to the base. Nothing felt different to any of them, but he warned not to leave the castle until the time field was down and Harry gave the okay.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thursday evening, at one minute to six, Alastor Moody apparated to Privet Drive for his routine night shift. Approaching Auror Tonks, his magical eye whizzing wildly, he asked, "Where's the family?"

Tonks looked a little startled, but tried her best to cover it up, not wanting a "CONSTANT VIGILANCE" speech, replied easily enough. "Left about an hour ago, looked like they were off to dinner."

Moody gave an incredulous look towards Tonks, "They actually took Potter with them?"

Now Tonks was looking confused, "No, it was just the Muggles from what I could tell. Why?"

Both of Moody's eyes bore into the house. "Cause Potter's not in the bloody house!" he barked, hobbling toward Number Four.

XXXXXXXXXX 

Harry really hopped that the time field was working. He had felt absolutely no change, either within himself, or his surroundings, so, deciding to test a theory, Harry began walking out to where he suspected the time field ended. Sure enough, about a hundred feet past the last greenhouse was a distorting haze. It looked to be a mirage, only more intense, with images of beyond the shimmering vapor fluctuating in and out.

_Well at least I know my boundaries while I'm in the time field. _

It didn't truly hit him until he was moving toward the library that Harry realized he was cheating time. True, Corvin Black created the advanced time turner, but Harry was using it. _I have time. I have time to work, to train, to grow, _his steely thoughts leading him to resume practicing the Confuto Memoria.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry was glad his prediction of being able to complete the rune set in four days held true, but was exhausted. Eat, sleep, memorize a picture of an intricate ancient puzzle, and repeat. Four days of mind numbing studying eventually came to an end. _This had better be worth it. _Moving into the heavily silenced dungeons, Harry began removing his clothes. He had instructed Kreacher to check up on him every four hours to see if he was still breathing, but otherwise do nothing. Taking one last deep breath he began.

Harry started drawing out the different necessary parts of the desired rune set. Piece by piece he worked, and worked, and worked. Sweat poured off of him in buckets. True Masters of rune magic may be able to half the necessary time, but Harry was a novice at best. He didn't study the runes themselves, only the pattern, and how best to illustrate them. It was due to his lack of knowledge on the subject that the estimated eight hours he had anticipated proved too little.

Ten and half hours since he began sketching a design of light into air, he finally finished with a large, beach ball size series of runes intertwined and meshed perfectly floating in front of him. All the young man wanted to do was collapse, but constant concentration and sheer desire prevailed, egging him on. Harry applied the last set into the large runic circle and it began to shrink. Holding his wand in place, the whole of his body shaking from fatigue, he moved the tip of the wand, which now held a red glowing Galleon sized rune set. _Here goes nothing. _

The wand tip connected to the higher back part of Harry's neck. The pain hurt, sure, but defiantly not worse than the cruciatus. The slight burn spread up his neck and into his skull, once he felt the all encompassing slight burn within his mind, the pain unleashed. Voldemort had never given such agony, it was endless suffering. To hope the pain receded only seemed to force it to intensify. The sheer volume and consistency of Harry's screams could be heard by the house elves as Kreacher made his customary appearance. After nine hours of near constant screaming the wizard's voice gave out. Nearly choking on the blood that came from his throat while still trying to cry out, the gurgled shouts rang out against the cold stone.

Near the end of his self induced torture, the feeling of something being ripped from his stomach and being pulled up towards his face was experienced. The pain grew to extraordinary amounts but the reprieve of passing out escaped young Harry. Suddenly a scream not his own, a high pitched wail blended with heavy moans and the wizard lying upon the hard floor could make out a black mist draining out from before his face. After this, the pain lessened but did not recede.

Finally, after nineteen hours later of what Harry would later describe a vacation to the pits of hell, the pain vanished as abruptly as it had come. His throat continued to bleed, as his body ached from the spasms of the previous hours, but he was alive, he had done it. The mere thought of doing another ritual caused him to whimper in sympathy for his future self, before Harry passed out.

If it wasn't clear, the Horcrux inside Harry was destroyed. In later chapters he'll discover that he was one, and why it was destroyed. I never liked this fact in the books but, no real way to explain the connection between him and Voldemort. I hope I've made Kreacher somewhat believable. His speech was always better than Dobby's and Harry is manipulating him, so I don't think it's too unrealistic to believe he jumps at the chance of having a "worthy" master. Thank you all so much for your reviews, please continue.


	4. Marked

**Marked**

**A/N: Just wanted to say thanks for the reviews and address a few things you all mentioned. Harry obviously can't beat Voldemort as is, so I needed to make a few things go his way. He'll definitely be powerful, but will work to achieve it. The use of runes and the time turner, where both the easiest and most believable in an unbelievable world. The additional house elves are irrelevant; I just needed an excuse to give Kreacher some praise and responsibility. He would be the only one Harry interacts with, but it won't be overly so. Harry will age and look much different when returning to Hogwarts, enough for people to notice but not really question. Bashing will occur, but no one is trying to steal his money, or hope and plan for his death (other than the obvious). That said, Harry's not exactly open to reconciling with Ron or Hermione, and will start finding their behavior and many others grating. In regards to Black versus Potter, Harry's using Kreacher, the Black library, and generally going against the norm (light), so he's leaning more towards that side of the street, while creating his own ideals. A major theme in this story is balance. He'll get freedom, but looses friends, gains advantages, but at a price, and his actions will have consequences that change him. I plan on coming out with a new chapter at least once a week, but I have a master draft that I've been revising from so the next few may come out quicker. **

**Thursday, July, 2, 1996**

Remus Lupin apparated in front of Grimmauld Place, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and entered. He could already hear a commotion from the kitchen, and prayed there hadn't been another attack by Death Eaters. Making his way into the room he heard Molly Weasley screeching, "HOW COULD YOU HAVE LOST HIM?"

In response, the voice of Nymphadora Tonks flooded his ears, "I DIDN'T _LOSE_ HIM! READ THE NOTE!"

Before Mrs. Weasley could retort, Albus Dumbledore spoke, "Ah, Remus, please come in. It seems we have a bit of a situation."

Lupin moved out from the hallway and took his seat, while looking around. He seemed to be the last to arrive, and decided to speak, "What's going on?"

Albus sighed wearily, and appeared very grim. "It appears young Harry has disappeared."

"What? How could…" Remus began panicking, but Dumbledore held up a hand to allow him to continue.

"Alastor and Nymphadora discovered tonight that Harry was not in his room, however, we were waiting for all to arrive before they explained." At this point he gestured toward Moody to do so.

"Right," the ex-Auror said gruffly. "I got on scene just before my shift and found Auror Tonks standing guard. I saw," here he pointed toward his magical eye, "that no one was home and asked where everyone was. Tonks informed me the family went out to eat, but only the three Muggles. That's when I knew something was up and we both proceeded to enter the home."

Here Tonks spoke up, "I thought Harry was inside. He never comes out anyway, so I just figured he stayed behind," she said sadly, obviously blaming herself.

Moody resumed, "We searched the house and found no sign of foul play. The lad's trunk was left and a letter to the Order on top of it." He slid said letter into the center of the table. "We didn't read it yet." No one made a move to touch it, but could easily tell they were curious.

Finally Dumbledore spoke up, "Remus would you please?"

The old werewolf took the letter carefully and opened it. Taking a deep breath he began reciting its contents. "Dear Order, unfortunately your warning went unheard by the Dursleys, and their treatment of me did not improve. Please don't blame whoever was guarding me at the time you discover this letter, as I most certainly left before then. Moody probably discovered I was missing. I would have been gone sooner had it not been for that eye of his and needing to map out my guard's shift change. No offense to any of them but Jones had a cold and continued to cough, Moody can't stand in one place for long, and that leg of his is pretty loud, Dung you can smell from a block away, and Tonks is clumsy. It wasn't difficult to figure out. My advice will probably go unheard but here it is anyway. Don't waste your time looking for me when there's a war going on. Obviously I was able to escape unnoticed for several days, so if you really think you have a chance of finding me, that I haven't taken steps to ensure you can't, you deserve to loose this war. I will be on the train come September first, if I am not, then you can worry. Lastly, to Dumbledore, if you even think of placing me at the Dursleys next summer, I can assure you they won't survive a week. People who beat and starve children at the age of three don't rank high on my list of worthy of life."

No one spoke, as the members of the Order sat in stunned silence, until Mad-Eye started laughing. "And just what is so funny?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed indignantly.

Still chuckling lightly, he replied, "The boy's good, managing to figure out our shift schedule. He's also right about us not finding him."

"We still must try Alastor," Dumbledore said.

This caused a few more laughs from the old Auror, and spoke again, "Come on Albus. First, the lad said it just there," pointing to the letter, "We'd be wasting our time and manpower searching for one person. Any idiot that read this letter could tell you Potter's not going to be in the usual places, at least not anymore."

"What do you mean by anymore?" Tonks asked before blushing slightly, realizing the idiot comment.

"The boy knew the schedule, he talked about my eye, he probably left right after my shift, knowing I would be the one to figure out he's gone. That gave him time. If he went to Diagon, I'd bet my good leg he's not there anymore."

The Order continued to sit and think on Moody's words, finally Mrs. Weasley spoke up, "Albus, are we sure he wasn't kidnapped?"

"I don't believe he was. Severus would have told us something, and I have him asking questions now. If it were Death Eaters, I doubt they would know about the specific guards, or leave one alive. No, I am certain that this letter is genuine and young Harry left of his own free will."

"We have to get him back. The poor dear is all alone and in danger," Mrs. Weasley continued to ramble until her husband put his arm around her.

"I for one am going to take the boy's advice and not bother. He's right Albus, we have more important things to worry about than a single schoolboy," Alastor said.

"I'm afraid we can't do that my friend. Harry is pivotal to the fight against Voldemort. We must keep him safe," the old wizard replied.

"You do what you have to, but I'd say Potter knows he's important and made the decision to get away from the Muggles and us anyway." The discussion continued for a time, as most who were close to Harry sided with Dumbledore and those who didn't know the prophecy, agreed with Moody. Many, including Remus and Tonks had intentions of paying the Dursleys a visit for more than just questions.

**Within the time field**

Harry slowly opened his eyes to the world around him. His throat was sore but certainly not as bad as he remembered. Gingerly, he moved to look around. He was lying in his bed wondering how he got there and what had happened. "Kreacher," he called out softly.

The little elf must have heard somehow and instantly was by Harry's bed. "Master is awake. He's must be drinking this," Kreacher said as he handed Harry a potion of some kind. Swallowing it and only then questioning if it had been poison, he instantly felt the cool calming effect on his throat.

He whispered hoarsely, "Thank you Kreacher. How long have I been out?"

"Master was in the screaming room for a long time. Kreacher bring you out two days ago."

_Two days. _Harry ran his hands over his face, and reached for his glasses. _Not a huge set back, but I need to get to work. _It was then that the young wizard took account of how he was feeling. Oddly enough, his throat was only a dull ache, while the rest of him felt great, energized. Dismissing the elf and heading into the bathroom, he stepped into the steamy water of the shower and thought. _Man that rune hurt. The book said it would but Merlin, that more than I expected. _Vaguely the image of a black mist entered his thoughts. _What was that? The book never said anything about that happening. _He thought back, trying to remember if Kreacher had mentioned it. Instantly he was looking at himself lying on the bed, and the elf talking. The conversation played out exactly how Harry remembered, but he noticed more, minute details of the scene. The entire experience was like the times he had used a Pensieve. He watched himself exit the bed and move toward the bathroom, where he proceeded to do exactly as he had only moments before. Harry snapped his attention back to the present with wide eyes, still standing under the hot water.

_Was that the effect of the Confuto Memoria? _He thought of talking with Kreacher again, and instantly was present in the Pensieve like scene. Bringing himself back out of his thoughts, he began thinking. _It has to be. I can reexamine my memories. _Turning off the shower and drying quickly, he decided to test out the speed of reviewing his past actions compared to real time.

Dressing quickly, he made his way to the ballroom. Standing before a large grandfather clock, he waited until the second hand hit the large number twelve and thought of walking out of his room and to where he now stood. Just before he reached the end of his thirty second decent of the stairs, he refocused. The second hand clicked once. _My thinking speed is insane! Before, it was fast, but I didn't notice things, I couldn't revisit and review my memories. _He continued to test and retest his new memory. Harry discovered that he was unable to perform the Pensieve like action on any memory before he awoke this morning. He could still recall them, but not with the same level of detail as his others. The Supreme Memory runic set allowed him to retain the same quick thought process but now he could analyze his experiences. He couldn't watch his memory of waking up and see it play all the way out until reaching the clock in under a second, but short burst scenes seemed to be possible.

Wanting to see the effect his new memory had on reading, Harry walked into the library and picked up the Dark runes tome. He merely glanced at the page with a picture of a rune, taking in the detail of the image, and then proceeded to close the book and slide over some parchment. The experience of remembering how the rune set looked wasn't like his personal Penieve memory. He was able to recall the image in such a way that he stayed in the present moment, yet his mind saw the past illustration. Harry drew the picture on the parchment and reopened the book to compare. _Exact! _There was no difference between the two. _I won't need to enlarge the image when I draw it with my wand, then shrink it down. _Pulling out his wand, Harry attempted to draw the rune. An hour later, the figure looked distorted because of the light, but the wizard _knew _they were the same.

Waving his wand and causing the image to disappear, he began thinking. _This is unbelievable! Drawing that without this advanced memory would have taken me six hours. I could learn thousands of spells and never have to give anything other than a fraction of a second's thought to which one to use. _It wasn't until know that Harry truly learned the usefulness of his new tattoo.

Rushing to the nearest bathroom, he twisted his neck to observe his new marking. Unless he pulled up the back of his hair, the symbol remained unseen. Even then, half of it was covered by his hairline. _I would have endured twice the pain if I knew what this could do! I can reanalyze a battle afterward and see how my enemies fight. _Moving back into the library Harry began reading the beginning of the book on Dark runes again, not wanting anything to escape his knowledge.

Four hours later, he put the book down and headed off to dinner. It was discovered that he would only have to give a page a customary glance, and he could read it in detail later, by revisiting the scene. If he read normally, the knowledge was instantly stored and easily recalled.

The book itself was a wealth of knowledge. Harry had discovered that once a seal was placed upon his body, he was immune to lycanthropy. Conversely, his dream of becoming like his father, or Sirius was shattered, as becoming an Animagi was also impossible. Apparently the markings bound the body to a certain form. He would still age and grow, but never be able to make any grand changes. Self Transfiguration wouldn't have an effect, but he could still change his appearance with glamours. Metemorphmagus' would loose their abilities and revert back to their natural form, while placing a runic tattoo on a person afflicted with lycanthropy would result in a very painful death.

By the time he sat to enjoy his meal, he had decided on three different runic sets that he would be placing on his body. The čovek rune was among the most desired, though it took Harry awhile to actually decide when he read about it.

_The __čovek, or sleepers' rune allows the wearer to only need three hours of continuous sleep per twenty four hours. These three hours are unavoidable, for if one were to attempt to stay awake, they would find it impossible. For this period of slumber the marked is unable to be awoken. No known force is able to rise those that carry such a rune. Also, dreams are no longer able to be experienced. Seers and Dream walkers will loose their ability to do such if becoming this rune's bearer._

The added time Harry could devote to training proved to be too much of a temptation. He understood that while sleeping he could be vulnerable; however he felt that with such a small window he would be alright. The added bonus of never receiving dreams from Voldemort pushed Harry to classify this rune set as his next in line.

While at first the increased physical attributes looked appealing, the obvious placement of the large tattoos deterred him. The pain and language sets were decided to join the sleepers' rune, feeling that with all the situations he gets himself into, the ability to dull pain to a degree would be beneficial. Unfortunately, the cruciatus curse, and the application of other runes supposedly remained unaffected. The sacrifice to be made when placing the pain rune was the fact that it was the longest of all others in its duration. Twenty hours of suffering, would need to be endured, but the thought of merely wincing if he was hit by a bone breaking curse pushed him on.

Knowing how to read, write, and speak different languages would help in understanding runes, and thus creating wards, along with being able to read the many library books not written in English. The trade off was never being able to speak a magical language. Harry didn't know of many, other than mermish or parseltongue, and wondered if he'd loose the ability to speak to snakes, but otherwise was unconcerned. _Maybe one less thing Voldemort and I have in common._

Over the course of the next two weeks Harry applied the other three runes. While the čovek was a third tier rune, and the pain was great, it didn't hold a candle to the pain rune, or his first marking experience. None of the three others produced the black mist and Harry resolved to find out why when he had the time. Harry's new circular tattoos varied in size slightly, but the largest, the pain rune, was roughly the diameter of a soda can, and adorned his left forearm just below the elbow. The fact that Death Eaters had a tattoo in a similar location unnerved Harry out slightly. The sleepers' rune was placed on his chest, just above his heart, while the language one was in the back of his throat, right behind his tongue.

Feeling that he was behind in his knowledge of magic, the remaining fifteen days were spend devouring books on magical theory. Harry had never realized that while there was general theory, which dealt with how wizards interact and manipulate magic, the more advanced conjecture was more subject specific. With his new mind, he was able to put a serious dent in the books. At first Harry was unable to truly understand much of what he read, but pressed on. One by one, each of the books revealed something to him that filled in the pieces of the puzzle. With never having to reference what was said in a different chapter, he could easily compare and make the necessary connections, thus learning faster.

By the end of his first thirty-six days in the time field, Harry felt that he could easily converse with many of the fore thinkers on the subject of magical theory, especially in Charms and Transfiguration, however he was itching to dive into the practical aspect of both. While there were a few texts on Dark Arts theory and he desperately wanted to learn about whatever "feeling" Mr. Borgin was referring to, he held off, wanting to truly focus on a few subjects at a time.

**Friday, July 3, 1996**

Harry Potter's day out of the time field was not one of rest and relaxation. While he felt confident he had more time, and now the ability to learn more at a faster rate, he knew he was still going to be fighting against an opponent who had decades of magical knowledge and experience. Harry's morning had been spent in the castle's gym attempting to reshape his scrawny frame. The young wizard knew that he not only needed to portray strength, but also physically embody it. This was why he was looking through potions texts within the confines of the library.

It had taken the better part of his day, but Harry had found a potion to reverse the effects of malnourishment. If he had thought the polyjuice potion was difficult to brew, the one he was currently working on paled in comparison. The list of steps alone was staggering. Thankfully the concoction only took a week, however it required the periodic inclusion of ingredients and various timed rotations. Harry began looking over books concerning potion making techniques, and studying each item on the list of ingredients. Unsure of how starting the potion, only to enter the time field hours later, would affect the brew, Harry decided to wait until the next rotation.

**Saturday, July 4, 1996**

A few hours after activating Corvin's device, Harry began working on the malnourishment potion. It had taken nine hours to precut the necessary ingredients but he was finally ready to begin. Once the potion was in the beginning stages of brewing, Harry returned to the library, while giving Kreacher instructions to inform him if anything happened.

Two weeks, a basic understanding of Occlumency, and one ruined attempt later, the potion of finally ready. Harry had actually allowed Kreacher to hit himself twice with a large book for stirring the potion clockwise on the eighth whisk instead of the ninth and ruining it. Taking a deep breath and drinking down the putrid liquid, Harry bottled the remainder of the potion and stored if safely in a cabinet. He would have to drink the stuff three times a day for the next week while his body slowly changed.

In between his study of Occlumency and keeping an eye on his potion, Harry had corrected his eyesight. It had always made him wonder why his father had never fixed his, or older witches and wizards wore glasses when magic surely could offer a solution. He discovered the reasoning while searching through a Dark potion text. Apparently blood in a tonic was all that was needed for the Ministry to classify it as "Dark."

Curiously, Harry's famous lightning bold scar, which had always appeared no older than a day, had begun to heal. He wasn't sure, but somehow he felt that his first runic ritual and the black mist had something to do with it. _Anything that makes me less noticeable is a plus_, Harry thought.

When he discovered that repeated attacks using Legilimency, were meant to occlude the mind faster he almost felt sorry for hating Snape during his lessons on the subject… almost. The slower version of Occlumency required hours of meditation and deep breathing exercises, but Harry was sure that once he was able to clear his mind a single time, the Confuto Memoria would help him replicate the experience with ease. Once proficient in the art, he would be able to lie to one skilled in Legilimency by projecting images, convincing them he spoke the truth, or anything else he wanted them to see.

A defense book titled The Upper Hand discussed in length the usefulness of silent spell casting, along with creating a flow of wand movements known as a chain, which would allow a wizard to cast faster. The pros and cons of both shielding and dodging were also discussed. As a result, Harry resolved to master all the techniques in the chapters.

Harry decided that because of his enhanced recall ability, he could focus on one subject at a time and never have to worry about relearning anything. On the vein of relearning, he reread his first year Charms book, aiming to perform all of the spells silently. It took six days, but Harry finally finished his revision of the text, and moved into the dueling room with an armful of objects.

Placing the majority in a small pile, he selected a quill and moved away. Dropping the quill and stepping back, Harry recalled what he had read about silent casting. Focusing on the intent of the spell and speaking the words clearly in his mind, he cast _Wingardium Leviosa. _The affect was instantaneous. The quill rose into the air and began moving in tune with Harry's wand. For the next hour he moved through the first year Charms, without ever having a problem silently casting. _I wonder if I would have been this good without the runes. _The added concentration, ability to recall the wand movements, incantations, and his pure desire, along with how simplistic the first year curriculum was, gave Harry a feeling of accomplishment as he moved back into the library to begin the second year Charms book.

The next day, Harry woke up after three hours of dreamless sleep, and reached to the nightstand out of habit, only then realizing his glasses were useless. Sliding out of bed and heading to the bathroom, he proceeded to splash water on his face. Tilting his head slightly at his reflection, with a curious look on his face, he thought. _Something's different. _Unable to put his finger on what exactly, he moved back into the bedroom and gazed into the full length mirror.

Gone was the scrawny boy with glasses and too big cast offs. The young man that stood staring back had the same bright green eyes, raven colored hair, and a scar that looked to be healing, but the differences between what was and what currently were could easily be seen. Harry now looked to be just less than six feet, and while easily slim, no longer looked sickly thin. _This… is… awesome! Sirius would have some choice words about women when saw me. _Chuckling lightly at the thought, Harry actually smiled, but then took on a look of confusion. _The book said the potion would act slowly. True, I've been growing slightly I guess, but now… _

Shrugging it off, Harry grabbed his workout clothes and headed to the gym. It had taken a week to convince Kreacher wearing Muggle clothes was acceptable. He only relented when Harry told him the ones he wore were magically charmed, but still grumbled every now and them.

After his customary morning routine he showered and ate breakfast. Picking up his second year book on charms, Harry began to read. Thankfully, with the little time he spent learning about potions, a caldron was often brewing some concoction while studying. Until he mastered the art, he didn't feel comfortable with anything beyond fourth year; so many poison antidotes lined his potion stores.

On day thirty-four in the time field, after he finished the silent practical casting of third year Charms Harry moved back into the library and sat silently. To anyone watching, they would assume he had fallen asleep had it not been for the fact his head was held high. Breathing deeply, yet slowly, Harry cleared his mind. He had been right about using the Confutos Memoria to replicate the effect once achieved. At first he couldn't keep random thoughts from sporadically entering his consciousness longer than a few seconds, but now he could go nearly ten minutes. _For a sixth of an hour I can be as dumb as Ron. _Laughing softly and his concentration broken, he proceeded to pick up the fourth year Charms book.

**Sunday, July 5, 1996**

While Harry continued to read through his book, Albus Dumbledore spoke out into the kitchen at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. "I called this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix together to hear of the progress in locating Harry Potter. Nymphadora, would you like to go first?"

Cringing slightly and narrowing her eyes at her former Headmaster she spoke, "Remus, Mad-Eye, and me talked to the Dursleys. Apparently Harry mentioned going out of the country, but like his letter, he said he'd be back in September, but he told them he wouldn't be seeing them again."

Sighing heavily and stroking his beard, Dumbledore began, "We must find him. The blood wards are the only thing that can keep him safe from Voldemort. I'm fairly certain he did not leave the country. Harry has only known England and loves magic too much to give it up. Because he doesn't know of any other magical communities he would stay here."

"He could find out Professor. If he went to Diagon Alley there are loads of books on the magical world and different types of transportation," Hermione Granger voiced. She and Ron had been told of Harry's disappearance two days ago. With neither having heard anything from him, nor receiving a response to their letters, they were at a loss. Both wrote to Luna and Neville but had come up short.

"Correct as usual Mrs. Granger and that most certainly may be true, though I hope it is not the case." Returning his attention back to the gathered group at large, he peered into the corner to look upon the dark, sulking figure of Severus Snape. "What have you heard Severus?"

"Nothing concerning Potter, Headmaster, the Dark Lord is planning something, though I am not privy to the information. As to my knowledge no Death Eaters are aware the brat's missing," he finished with his customary sneer.

"No Death Eaters but you," Moody retorted before spinning back to face Dumbledore. "I told ya, you're wasting your time Albus. The boy doesn't want to be found, and if we can't get to him, neither can his merry bunch of idiots," he finished while jerking back his thumb to point at Snape.

"We still must try. While Harry may think he's safe at the moment, it is a long while until September." Sighing again, he turned and asked, "Who else has something to report?"

Kingley Shacklebolt spoke up, "It may be nothing but Jones and I went around Diagon asking questions, since Moody thought Potter might have gone there." Receiving a nod from many around the room he continued, "We inquired at several shops about anyone strange coming in the last few days. Both the cashier at Flourish and Blotts and Madam Malkin talked about a brown haired boy. Apparently who ever this kid was, he bought over forty books and whole wardrobe. Both were pretty tightlipped about it because he tipped well, but when they saw the auror badge, we got it out of them. The boy wore glasses but had no scar that they could recall."

At this point Mundungs cleared his throat loudly. "There's someone in Knockturn that made Borgin 'appy. No one knows why, but the man's been in particularly good spirits," he finished in a slur.

"Harry might have been at the bookstore and gotten robes, but he most certainly didn't go into _that _place!" Mrs. Weasley said indignantly.

Dung just shrugged and continued, "I've also been earin' 'bout a house elf gettin' lots from the apoth… apothy… the potion store."

"Well we know it isn't Potter's elf. He can't brew a potion to save his life," Snape interjected.

"Severus please," Albus said. "Perhaps an elf is helping him. It would certainly explain how all the library books disappeared."

"Surely you don't think Harry's reading those, do you Albus?" Lupin asked.

"Harry was quite angry last time we spoke. I'm not sure what he will do with the books."

"Nothing, Harry hates Dark magic. He wouldn't do anything but burn the dusty old books!" Ron stated fiercely. Hermione looked pale at the idea of books being destroyed, no matter how much she considered them evil.

"Perhaps you're right Mr. Weasley, and I certainly hope you are. The books that were in there are some of the most dangerous and wicked in existence," Dumbledore sighed. "But back to our house elf theory. Dobby?" he called out.

The excitable little creature popped into existence, answering, "Yes Dumblydore sir?"

Looking down at the elf, Albus spoke kindly, "Have you seen young Harry Potter in the last few days Dobby?" Shaking his head vigorously, Dumbledore continued, "Could you find Harry and bring him here?"

The elf nodded excitedly and popped off. The entire room remained in silence, waiting. They didn't have to wait long, as less than a minute later Dobby reappeared looking distraught. "I's is sorry sir, but great Harry Potter someplace Dobby cants go."

Fearing the worst from the phrasing, Dumbledore asked quickly, "Is he alright?"

Ignorant to his previously chosen words the elf spoke, "Dobby blocked. I's not beings able to gets in to see great Harry Potter sir."

Releasing the breath he had been holding, he was interrupted by Bill Weasley, "Elf wards. I'd bet Harry's under anti-elf wards." Stopping and looking confused before continuing, "Gringotts hasn't had any warding projects on the books in the last few days."

"He must be with someone who has them then," Hermione stated simply.

Before anyone could speak further the screeching portrait of Walburga Black was heard. "BLOOD TRAITORS, MUDBLOODS, FILTHY HALF-BREEDS! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

Getting out of his chair to close the drapes, Remus Lupin stumbled upon the house elf Kreacher. "Get out of here!" Lupin said as he yanked the cloth closed. When he returned, he simply said, "Kreacher."

Furrowing his brow, Albus began, "Kreacher is a house elf, and since Dobby has not been able to find young Harry, perhaps our answers lie with him." Turning to the current elf in the room, Dumbledore asked, "Dobby would bring Kreacher down here please?"

Returning a moment later with the older elf, who was dressed in a fine black pillowcase, adorned with two serpents, Kreacher looked around suspiciously, but made no move to leave, in fact, he gave a moderate bow in Tonks' direction muttering, "Miss Changling."

Tonks looked bewildered and responded, "What did you just call me?"

"Miss Changling."

"Why would you call me that?"

"That's your name."

Dumbledore chuckled softly and addressed Kreacher, "Could you tell us if you were shopping in Diagon alley recently?" The elf merely stared back, not making any sign of answering. Sighing and looking at Tonks, "Nymphadora, would you please ask our little friend here some questions?" Tonks sighed in defeat at the hopes of the Headmaster ever listening to her about using her first name, and repeated the question to Kreacher.

"Yes." Was all the elf said.

"Why?"

"Kreacher was shopping."

"What were you shopping for and how did you get the money?"

"Ingredients and Master gave me money." He puffed up his chest in pride when he said the word Master.

"Who is your Master Kreacher?" The elf simply stared back for a second, before popping away, leaving a bewildered room.

**A.N: One thing I both hated and loved about the ideas for Occlumency was the organization of a person's mind. A lot of stories go on about how Harry creates a library or giant fortress in his head that keeps people out, or lets him store vast amounts of knowledge. I always wondered why more people wouldn't use it then. Trying to solve this problem, I used the Confutos Memoria as a counter to those proposed benefits of Occlumency and just had the mind art acting as protection. From the books I figured that not too many wizards practice Occlumency, other than those doing something that they want kept a secret. I mean Draco learned it over the summer but Snape said it was an obscure branch of magic. **

**As always, read and review.**


	5. The Truth

**The Truth**

**A/N: I'm trying to make it difficult for Harry to a degree, but six days to finish a book is really long when he has anywhere from 12 to 16 hours a day to study, but lets just accept it. There's a skip in time for this chapter so I can get to the fun stuff, but I'll give you a basic overview of what he's done, so it doesn't seem outrageous when he does something later. Within the books there are a lot of issues concerning the Fidelius. If you want to know them:** . **I ultimately take various points and make it my own, which to me, is a lot easier, so just roll with it.**

**On the subject of parseltongue. Rowling never addressed this, but I always felt he lost the ability once the Horcrux in him was destroyed, but because I want the locket to defiantly be one, and wouldn't ya know it, only parseltongue can open it, I'm not going to go into how messed up this aspect of the books are, but anyway. Still a little iffy with the Chamber of Secrets so I'm going to keep him having the language. The rune he has prevents him from learning to speak any magical language. He already knows one, so it won't be affected. With regards to Dementors and the runes, they still affect him heavily, but can't take his soul. Not really a problem with him being proficient at the Patronus and all, but there you go.**

**ladysavay, I probably should have addressed this and thanks for bringing it up. Eventually, and you'll discover why, the markings/Azkaban situation will be covered. That said, I'm still laughing so thanks for that.**

**Monday, July 6, 1996**

Harry had spent the last twenty one days in the time field reading and practicing only Charms, finishing his remaining books on the subject. That very day he had spent three hours performing all the seventh year spells and was exhausted. The remaining fifteen days would be reading about advanced Charm theory and attempting to replicate any spells the books provided. Harry had read about the Fidelius Charm and trying to find a loophole that would allow him to become the Secret-Keeper. At first he figured that once learned, it could be cast on the castle with Kreacher bearing the aforementioned moniker, and ordering him not to tell anyone, however the advanced Charm could only be cast on and by a wizard or witch. Even if he found someone else capable of performing the spell, the caster, owner, and or residents were unable to be the Secret-Keeper.

Flitwick was right when he said it was a complex spell back in third year. The wand movements alone, where long and drawn out, but with Harry's memory that wasn't the aspect that gave him pause. It was the magically draining amount of power it required to be cast. He calculated that he'd be bedridden for at least a few days from magical exhaustion depending on the size of the area he wished to hide. Harry postulated that if he could gather a large enough group of people, and replicate whatever the goblin warders had done, he could hide huge areas without taxing himself to the same degree. He filed this idea away for later.

The library in the castle was rectangular, with two long rows on either side of the walls. A conference table was centered between the rows and lead to the back wall of windows. Beneath the wall of pained glass were several plush leather armchairs, where Harry found himself and had started reading an advanced book on memory Charms. Periodically, he would glance over at the left wall that held the Black family's Dark Arts books. It had been getting worse. The itch, the desire, the need to know what _truly _Dark or that _feeling_ was the book and Mr. Borgin where referring to. He could almost taste the knowledge.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he thought, _three more rotations. Just three and I'll find out. _Harry had decided to devote the next one hundred and eight days in the time field learning and relearning Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense. He would never say the exact number of days before he allowed himself to crack open a Dark tome, the thought was too depressing, so he simply recited the word three internally. _Maybe if I just… NO! Stick to the plan and it'll be that much better when I finally get learn._

Harry had decided to study Potions next, as he had never really delved into the subject, what with the agitating presence of a Professor who loathes you, making it difficult and all. The practical aspect of Potions would be more time consuming than working with spells, so Harry anticipated using the full thirty-six days, and not getting to the more advanced brews. He was also cheating slightly, in studying the Dark Potion book. While some of it had been looked over when trying to find a solution to remove his glasses, he stopped once the useful potion was found. As Harry concentrated not to reread what he had seen in the book with his Pensieve mind memory, he refocused on the text before him.

After Potions he would move on to Transfiguration. That particular subject held the most theory, but in seeing the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort, Harry knew it to be a useful branch. While still angry at his Headmaster, he was able to respect his skill. It was necessary for Harry to have a firm grasp on both Charms and Transfiguration in order to perform Animation and, or Conjuration, as both are among the few that merge both subjects. Personally, he felt that these two should be a separate course offered at Hogwarts. _Better if they just cram seven years of Charms and Transfiguration into six and then teach us the other two magics last. _

His third rotation, or as Harry referred to it mentally, _the final frontier_, would be Defense against the Dark Arts. He promised himself that when he was in this month, that he would learn the Dark spells in The Only Real Defense, but wouldn't practice them as the book advised against it. Harry was also looking forward to this month as he would begin dueling a dummy. Many of his old Defense books were about Dark creatures, rather than spells, thus he planned to skip over and come back to them when studying Care of Magical Creatures. This fact coupled with his ability to take to defensive magic quickly, allowed him to set aside a period of each day to practice fighting a makeshift opponent.

**Monday, July 13, 1996**

Yawning loudly, Harry Potter rose out of his bed and began his day of rest and relaxation. It had been just over seven months since he had first activated Corvin's time turner, and nearly four of those were spend studying the core subjects of Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense against the Dark Arts after his month on Charms. The time had changed the boy-who-lived in many ways.

Physically, Harry now gave off a commanding air. Muscles that were once small and rare could be seen in abundance while bulging from his form. He had grown just enough to push past six feet, and seemed to tower above the house elves, who would gaze upward in awe. The black hair that had always retained a look of being constantly ruffled was longer and just enough of it could be pulled back into a loose fitting ponytail to barely touch his lower neck. Raven locks still fell across his forehead, though his famous scar had diminished to be scarcely visible, as it blended into the color of his skin.

The young man's eyes spoke of power and knowledge. One could pick him out in a room full of strangers by the way his magic rolled off of him. The mind of a far more mature individual was filled with theory, spell lists, and the comprehension of subjects exceeding the grasp of many. The new Harry Potter rivaled all the recently graduated Hogwarts students on any of the four core subjects.

The young wizard could perform all his spells silently and was able to create several casting chains, for a quick succession of fire. He had been right in anticipating that his proficiency in defensive magic would lead him to excel faster than the other subjects, Though his first experience with dueling was certainly interesting.

**Flashback: July 12, 1996**

Closing The Only Real Defense, Harry blew out a heavy sigh. He had been able to go through all his Hogwarts' year books on Defense in fifteen days, though he refrained from the practical portion in anticipation of getting to the book before him. What he discovered within said pages yielded no further revelations regarding what _true _Dark meant. The text was useful, sure, but it didn't tell him what he wanted to know. _This is my own damn fault; I should have read the Dark Arts theory like the rest. _Taking another deep breath, continued, _Its only twenty two more days including one in actual time, and then I'll figure it all out. _

Three-fourths of his Hogwarts Defense books were useless. He had no current desire to learn about the animals, places, or objects that the Ministry deemed _Dark_. Instead, Harry memorized shield spells, counter curses, and beginner's dueling tactics. The information seemed to be ripped from the books and stuffed into the teen's mind. He finished them all in just under a week. The Potters, the young wizard discovered, had a knack for Transfiguration and dueling. Because of the latter, a multitude of both advanced dueling tactics and stances, along with the comparative magic of defense filled the shelves on the right side of the library.

Some of the books concerning Defense were similar to others, and many took on a repetitive tone, but Harry pushed through. Book after book found its way into his hands until finally he took up The Only Real Defense. He had been tempted to snatch it up after he finished the N.E.W.T. level readings, but knew that the book was advanced, and he needed a thorough grasp of the subject. It was only a day later, where he currently found himself, that he wished he had incorporated practical work into his reading. He now sported a slight headache as he got up and moved into the dueling room.

He always used the room for testing out spells, and even tried a few on the practice dummies. The make-shift enemies, whom he had childishly named some variation of Draco Malfoy, lined the wall, numbering a total of ten. The blondies, ponces, and ferrets, all looked like mannequins, with pale, blank faces.

Harry began practicing his silent casting. Oddly enough, the higher the year level, the more reliance on shields, dodges, and other solely defensive measures there were. The school's curriculum seemed to teach the younger years silly jinxes that couldn't really do any harm, but they tapered off and became stunning spells or some other variation that left an opponent immobile and _alive_. He knew it wasn't a bad way to teach Defense, and since it was labeled as such, it made sense that the class focused more on protecting yourself than countering. Whatever the wisdom behind the course material, Harry had recently come into the view that a good defense is a strong offense. _Put them down, they don't get up, and you live. Seems like a good way to protect yourself to me._

It only took an hour for Harry to get the Hogwarts spells down silently, and even he was impressed with himself. The more advanced magics required more power, focus, and took longer, but eventually he was successful in casting silently. While the majority of Defensive spells were predominantly shielding, the higher level spells touched on offense briefly.

Harry had been casting for seven hours and just gotten back into the dueling room, from dinner, when he decided to practice with Ponce, the "prettiest" dummy. Casting a silent levitation charm and bringing the faceless humanoid to the center of the room, Harry proceeded to follow the instructions from the book he had found within the room long ago. The practice dummies had skill settings ranging from one to ten. They could be instructed to fight individually, or as a team, and either with magic, their physical bodies, or both. Unfortunately they were limited to only the stinging hex, or stunning spell, so Harry couldn't test the strength of his various shields.

Tapping his wand to Ponce's chest and setting him to level one, magical use only, Harry stepped back. On the pale white sternum the number one, followed by the letter M appeared in black ink. Once at a respectable distance, Harry called out, "Begin." The dummy came to life instantly and moved to raise its fingerless fist, before its living opponent hit it with a quick stupefy. Ponce fell back and the markings on his chest disappeared.

Harry levitated the mannequin upright and reset it to level two. The scene was repeated, until he got fed up and skipped level five and moved straight to ten. Once called to life, Ponce moved both hands and simultaneously shot the stunning spell. Harry moved to dodge and just barely missed the left flying red light before his world went dark.

**End Flashback: Monday, July 13, 1996**

Harry had discovered that day that level five was when the dummies began dodging. After analyzing his memory of the scene, it was uncovered that Ponce fired his first dual stunners, and then moved his hands off to the right to fire again, almost immediately. When Harry had thought he wouldn't be able to test the strength of his shields he was only partially correct. At a higher setting the dummy's spells were a near constant barrage that trained his stamina in holding up a shield, but wouldn't gauge its strength in powerful, short burst curses.

Since the dummies only fire two spells, he couldn't judge which shield to bring up, due to the fact that nearly every one could defend against the two. He found, however that taking multiple hits to one shield, then bringing up a separate one enabled his reflexes to grow. Soon, the ability to take a hit from an incoming spell with one shield, only to give his wand a quick flourish and take another with a completely different shield was becoming second nature.

To rectify the monotony of only being attacked by two spells, the wizard deemed that stunners would act as killing blows, and must always be dodged, while stinging hexes could be shielded, but the same one can't be used within the span of four others. Harry had restarted at the beginning and trained himself to easily dodge and shield against the level one dummy. Ponce's casting at this level was slow, and his movements similar. Truth be told, he looked like a first year Tonks, stumbling around. Level two increased casting speed and variety of movement, while this continued slightly until level five.

At the halfway mark, Ponce would dodge and occasionally use his other hand to fire. Harry was "killed" at level six. He knew he could take the dummy down, however the constant movement helped his training, along with recalling shields quickly. Harry would fire fun spells designed to change appearance just for the sake of both keeping up the "game" and practicing firing accurately when under attack. Ponce at level eight was rather difficult, and Harry only had been training with him on this setting for a day before he deactivated the time turner, but was excited to continue.

Today was his last out of the time field before he began his study of the Dark Arts. Harry had trained twice as long in both the gym and dueling room, attempting to calm his excitement. He knew that because of his sleepers' rune, just three hours short of twenty-four hours awake, he would drop without warning. Due to his ever increasing nerves of what tomorrow would bring, that situation was looking more and more likely if unable to fall asleep on his own.

Thinking back over the last few months, he recalled his conversation with Kreacher and discovering that the Order was on to them both. Apparently anti-elf wards had been set up at Grimmauld place and Kreacher was unable to return. When the wrinkly creature, he didn't _completely _loathe, had told him about Ron and Hermione being there he was more than a little upset. _Sure they're there for me, but neither of them have a reason to be! What are they doing for the war! What is any of the stupid Order doing, except playing babysitter and where's Harry! Useless idiots! Oh that's right those two are there to SPY ON ME! _It took over half and hour to completely calm down.

Surprisingly, Harry and Kreacher were getting along to a degree. The wizard had occasionally added a bit of anti-blood supremacy here or there into their conversations and the little racist was coming around on some points. Eventually, Kreacher had taken less and less convincing to believe what his Master was saying. Whether this was because he was starting to think for himself on the subject, or simply due to the fact that Harry had said so, one couldn't be sure. While the topic of blood purity of wizards was often the main source of their discussions, the boy-who-lived once brought up the touchy subject of half-breeds.

"Kreacher, why do you not like werewolves?" Harry had asked.

In his usually muttering sneer, he replied simply, "They're half-breeds."

As was usual in their conversations, Harry played to be thinking out loud, "Yeah, I get that, but they can't control it right?"

"No, but they's still being filth."

"Hmm," Harry mused aloud, "Would you rather be a disgusting Muggle," he didn't dare try and convince him to accept them, "or a wizard?"

"A wizard Master," Kreacher answered instantly.

"Of course you would. But let's say you were bitten and turned into a werewolf. Is that your fault?" Harry actually enjoyed their little talks and he felt it was good practice trying to convince the miniature lunatic to come around. The elf's ideals were modeled after the type of people Harry hoped to turn to his way of thinking.

After a bit of thinking and a deep frown, Kreacher replied, "No, but Kreacher would still a filthy half-breed."

"Yeah, but you can't control that. No more than you can control being a house elf and me being a wizard. Why don't we think about it for awhile and talk later on." Harry knew it would be more difficult to manipulate people who could actually think, but he hoped that because of that fact, they would also see the truth easier.

**Tuesday, July 14, 1996**

Harry Potter had woken up, activated the time device, preformed his morning exercises, and eaten breakfast. Now he sat, a single book sat before him on the long table in the library. He had waited for months to open a Dark Arts book. The potion book claiming to be on the subject had been rather worthless, but Harry knew the others would be different. He knew that the "forbidden" side of the library would give him the answers he sought to know since that day in Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Breathing deeply, almost nervously, Harry Potter opened his first book on the Dark Arts.

The tome was old by the look of it. There were stains on the cover, and the excited wizard was careful not to damage it. No breaks were taken, no meals were eaten, and Harry continued. His eyes, which at first had held child like wonder and excitement, were currently those of deep concentration and fascination. If he hadn't been sure that the book wasn't cursed, he might have been concerned by the fact he couldn't look away. The entranced wizard read, and read, and continued to read through the day. His body seemed to be of like enthrallment, as he never felt the need for sustenance or a reprieve.

The book held no grand spells or complex theory; it simply stated exactly what Harry had been looking for, the _truth. _The difference between what the Ministry considers "Dark" and the reality of the art. There was no comparison. The distinction between the two was insurmountable.

The Dark Arts were pure, magic in its most basic form. The majority of the spells classified as such were destructive, painful, horrific, but there were those, those that differed. This magic was the epitome of balance. The curses took, but like the runic seals that were marked upon his flesh, they also gave.

Harry learned about the _feeling_, about the cause for it, and why it existed. The book told him that when casting a spell or curse meant to harm, meant to maim, or meant to torture, the caster would experience a counter effect of the curse. The sensation was different and personal to every witch or wizard, but it was always one of great enjoyment. The reaction to the continuous use of Dark spells was addiction. The caster would, given time, or the constant use of such magics, come to require their daily use.

At first Harry was thrown off by this fact. The dependence on spells that were meant to harm or kill was unsettling. Continuing to read, he learned an easy solution to counteract the potential for harming the innocent.

_Though one addicted to their use may be driven to cast upon the blameless, the Dark Arts merely require a living or temporarily living entity for the sensation to occur. The ability to transfigure or conjure animals is highly recommended for one seeking to delve into the purest art of magic. While cursing another intelligent being, like the caster a single time, multiple castings on lower life forms will result in the same sensations Dark magic provides. The maximum addiction level one may achieve through use of the art is twice daily._

Finally stopping, Harry stood from his chair and began to pace. His thoughts running over what he had just read. With the advanced memory, nothing escaped his focus. _So since the Dark Arts cause one feeling or effect on whoever they're being cast on, the opposite sensation is experienced by whoever did the casting. _Keeping his brow furrowed in thought he continued. _Being addicted to a form of magic is disconcerting, but the most I would ever need to do would be casting a few spells on conjured animals twice a day. _Harry's train of thought stopped abruptly. _I? I couldn't do that. I couldn't… _Tilting his head, he stayed silent, until finally letting out a deep breath. _I could! I am! I need to know, to experience whatever this feeling is. Besides, not all of them give some sort of sensation._

It was true. The Dark Arts were equality. The spells meant to harm, gave the opposite in return, but the ones meant to heal required sacrifice. Harry read about the ways in which he could bring someone back from the brink of death, by sacrificing either yourself, or another. He discovered ways in which to replace severed limbs by ripping them from others. The healing magical aspect of the Dark Arts differed from the offensive spells, in that no feelings were experienced unless the wizard performing the sacrifice chose himself as the giver, and those were not pleasant feelings. _So much good could be done with this. Prisoners for life could be used to help those in need. Those more deserving, who could have been hurt by the very animals that are being held! _It was with this last thought, that Harry Potter resolved himself to mastering the Dark Arts.

The only thing that stopped his curiosity and him from running into the dueling room was his experience with the runes. He had rushed in and applied the Confutos Memoria without realizing he could never become an anamagus. Harry didn't regret getting the marking, but he should have known all of the facts beforehand. This was the reason he returned to the book on the table.

In the next few days Harry could be found pouring over Dark Arts texts, scary looking tomes that paled in comparison to many of their contents. He had discovered that Bellatrix was right when she told him he had to mean it. The intent required for the Dark Arts differed greatly from the visualization needed for many other spells. Oddly enough, he could see the similarity between Dark curses and the Patronus Charm. Both utilized the strong emotions associated with a memory to power the spells, but while the Patronus uses memories to evoke feelings of happiness, the opposite is true for Dark spells.

He had been a little worried that since he had such a hard time with the Dementor repelling Charm, he'd struggle with the Dark Arts. It wasn't until he recalled his struggle with finding a happy memory that he realized most of his were aimed to toward depression, fear, and anger. The latter would help in casting the Dark Arts spells.

It wasn't just the intent Bellatrix had mentioned. Harry recalled through his hazy memories, her telling him he had to want to cause pain and righteous anger wouldn't hurt long. This brought up an interesting dilemma. _How can I want to cause pain? I know I don't have to want to hurt whoever I'm casting on, just an idea, the thought of someone. _His thoughts continued as he stretched his mind to pinpoint the source of anger. _What makes me ang…traitors! Traitors like Wormtail, like a certain pair of former friends! People like Petunia, who can't stand up for their own beliefs in the face of others! Sheep! _The crystal clear memory of Kreacher telling him about Ron and Hermione at the Order meeting was enough to make Harry see red. After some time to calm down, he re-visualized the memory. No matter how many times he say and heard it, his anger enveloped him. The added thoughts of what Wormtail did to him and his parents, what Petunia allowed her _precious _Dudley and Vernon to do to him, spurred his hatred on until the very thought of the word blinded him with rage. One solitary word that he put all his malice, contempt, and feelings of betrayal into, one word that would lead to his success in the Dark Arts… _traitors. _

Harry's studies into the Dark magics inevitably lead to the Unforgivables. Interestingly the cruciatus curse was the only one which was qualified as "truly" Dark. The intent to cause pain, the sensation one experienced when it was cast successfully, the fact that it was deemed the Darkest of all spells, and Harry's own personal experience under the curse made him realize why it was so feared. While the other two Unforgivables required the same level of intent as all Dark spells, neither resulted in any sensation, thus blurring the lines between Dark and "Light" magic. From what Harry could understand, it was the harmful effects of both the Killing, and Imperius Curses that pointed them toward the Dark Arts. However, because _Avada Kedavra _was absolute, death was instantaneous, and painless, no feelings could be experienced. Likewise, the Imperius Curse removed freewill, if the caster's intent was strong enough, yet during the experience of being controlled, a mindless acceptance, which wasn't all too unpleasant, was endured. The polar opposites of both of the Unforgivables resulted in them being placed in a grey area of magic.

Harry was nearing the end of his theoretical observations into the Dark Arts on the thirty-third day in the time field, when he came upon something called the Atrum Vinculum. He wasn't sure what to think after reading.

_The Atrum Vinculum, or Dark Bond, allows for a connection to be created between fellow Dark Arts users. The link between these Dark wizards and witches allows for a subtle form of camaraderie. This is not to say that all those using the Dark Arts are on friendly terms. The bond simply makes it easier to become acquainted with those other sorcerers who use the Dark magics. Strong emotions such as hate or love are intensified by those under the effect of the Atrum Vinculum, thus an enemy does not suddenly turn ally as a consequence. _

Harry didn't know how to feel about this. Rising from the armchair, he began walking throughout the castle. As he moved through the illuminated corridors, he thought. _Okay, so… I hate Voldemort right now. I'll probably hate him even more if this bond thing happens to me. I hate Death Eaters, so same situation. I'm angry at Dumbledore, the Order, my friends, and the Ministry. Will I have the same amount of hate for them as I do for Voldemort?... Doubtful. I may be angry right now, but I don't hate them. _Shaking his head to clear the thoughts of all the unsettling emotions stirring within him, he tried to look at the positive aspects. _I'd be able to determine other heavy users, and thus find out if they could be accepting of my group. The families who practice the Dark Arts, but aren't siding with Voldemort could have potential. If the Decretum was filled with members who practiced such magic, it would mean I have a group who believes as I do, and the effect of the bond would provide unity. We would be a group gathered, not in fear, but amity. This could lead to the Decretum's members putting aside any differences and join under the singular goal of peace. _

Resolved to fully accept what the Dark Arts would bring, he moved into the dueling room. Thinking quickly of what he would like to test his first Dark spell on, a cruel smile spread across his face. With a swirl and jab, a rat, eerily similar to a certain anamagi appeared. A silent _engorgio _and _petrificus totalus_ later, Harry took a deep breath. Concentrating all his hate, intent, and wanting, truly wanting to cause those who have wronged him pain, he raised his wand. With one last look into the fearful animal's eyes, he cast the Dark spell and felt it.

**A/N: I had a lot of fun writing the second half of this chapter and am really interested in what you think. The reviews have been great and it makes me work faster, but I probably only got one more chapter that I can put out in the next two days before I move a little slower. I still plan on getting one to you guys at least once a week.**


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